


You've Got Mail

by Copper_Goggles



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Rating may go up, You've Got Mail AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copper_Goggles/pseuds/Copper_Goggles
Summary: Struggling music store owner, Christine Daae despises Erik and his new theatre across the street. Erik has no problem showing that the feeling is entirely mutual. When they meet online, however, they begin a strong and loving relationship, completely oblivious of each other’s true identity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the 1998 film of the same name

Christine woke earlier than usual that morning. Her eyes slid open well before her alarm was meant to go off, and the sun had barely risen, leaving her with a delightful decision. Stay in bed and cherish the cocoon of warmth around her or… get up early… go on her computer and log on. He might be online already. After all, he was known to keep strange hours. She peeled back her blankets and rushed to slip into a dressing gown before making her way to the lounge room where she was sure she’d left her laptop.  
  
She sat on the couch with the device open on her lap while a familiar feeling of eager curiosity crept in. The page loaded and her profile came up. Her eyes eagerly darted to the corner where the familiar little mail icon sat with a small indicator on the corner. Christine felt a small smile. You’ve got mail. How she loved that phrase. Every time she saw it she got a rush of happiness. Because she knew, on the other end was her mysterious friend.  
  
It had been four months since she had joined this chat site. She had just moved into her new apartment in the city and was trying to find some new ways to talk to new people. It was her friend’s idea ultimately. She had been nagging about it quite often actually.  
  
-  
  
“When was the last time you met someone new, Christine?”  
  
“Honestly, Meg, it’s no big deal. Besides I’ve got to concentrate on running the store.” Her friend had sighed and turned from stacking the CD’s.  
  
“Christine Daae. It has been too long since you’ve gotten out and met new people. I know I’m wonderful- and that eye roll is not necessary- but I can’t be the only one for you.”  
  
Christine shot her a teasing smirk “One friend is a handful as it is. Besides, I have Raoul too.” At the mention of her boyfriend, Meg seemed to concede.  
  
But, she brought it up once more while they were waiting for their order at the coffee shop. “I’ve heard of these websites where you get a chance to meet random strangers around the same age group and area. You could try that.” Christine groaned. “Please. Just for a trial run at least.”  
  
Christine accepted her order and sighed. “Fine, but only to keep you quiet.”  
  
-  
  
Christine had made an account that very night and signed up for the over 25 age group. She elected not to put much in her profile; only her gender, and the screen name 'ChorusGirl'. She tried conversations with many people. Some seemed nice enough, the conversation lilted in others, while others seemed to impress the wrong idea entirely. She sighed and was prepared to log off, entirely prepared to tell Meg that the whole thing was pointless. Perhaps one more. Christine scrolled through the names until one caught her eye. 'AngelofMusic'. Interesting, the profile had next to no information, like herself, only that 'AngelofMusic' was a man. She clicked, inviting him to join in a chat room.  
  
AngelofMusic: 'A chorus girl? Am I to infer that this is your profession?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'I prefer no specifics. It takes all the fun out of it. I enjoy a mystery. But, I will tell you that I love music. If we’re going to assume purely on names, does that mean I am actually talking with a divine guardian of music?'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Oh indeed. What other logical conclusion could there be?'  
  
Christine couldn’t help but giggle at her screen.  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Well then, in that case, I’m flattered you would talk to a lowly mortal such as myself.'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Try not to become overwhelmed. Now, I must know, what type of music in particular is your favourite?'  
  
From there the conversation branched off into the types of music they liked, their favourite composers, any instruments they played. They spoke for over an hour, learning about the other while not really learning anything. Christine learned that 'AngelofMusic', preferred Mozart over all composers, liked bitter, Russian tea, and had a Persian cat named Ayesha who was apparently watching the exchange from her diamond encrusted throne where she reigned- (a fancy, overstuffed pillow, he ended up admitting).  
  
Christine eventually logged off, promising to chat the next day at the same time. They soon fell into a routine, chatting each evening, and sometimes in the morning, about their days and whatever took their fancy. They had decided early on that they would not discuss any specifics; no names, careers or family connections. Avoiding these details was difficult at first, but Christine came to love her time talking to 'AngelofMusic'.  
  
\----------  
  
Erik Devereux had been surprised when the invite popped up on his screen, he leaned back in his chair and glanced at the profile in question. No real details to speak of. He could respect that of course. While locked in his study in his penthouse apartment, he was eager to keep himself the most private life possible. He glanced at Ayesha, who was lounging on the pillow on his desk. She blinked up at him.  
  
“What do you think? Should I?”  
  
She gave a small meow and closed her eyes, clearly not being bothered by his inner turmoil. It was a chat site after all. What had he been expecting?  
  
Deciding to get this over with he typed a quick message and sent it before he could change his mind. A reply came up moments later and Erik found his eyebrow rising in amusement. The reply was… intriguing. A mystery was always interesting to him, and if the girl was hoping to keep her life private, she could have no qualms if he did the same. And as his hand came up to feel the hard surface of his mask, he knew that could only be a good thing.  
  
As they chatted, he was loath to admit it, his mouth tilted in the smallest of smiles as this girl talked about her favourite symphonies. She was quite knowledgeable about music. A fact he found out rather quickly and before long, 'ChorusGirl' admitted it was getting late and had to log off. He glanced at the study clock and started. They had been talking for longer than he had expected, and he bid her goodnight. But, before he saw her icon disappear, she asked to talk again tomorrow. Erik felt a little shocked. Had this girl really enjoyed talking with him so much?  
  
AngelofMusic: 'If you would like. Same time?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Yes. That would be great. See you then.'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Well, not see you…. You know what I mean.'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Of course. Until then.'  
  
Erik's amber eyes stared at the spot where 'ChorusGirl’s' icon had been and he chuckled. Conversing with someone from the outside world. Not even about work. Nadir would be thrilled, he was certain. The nosy fool had been nagging him to talk to more people for over a decade, and he had only made his account on the most random of whims to get the Daroga off his back. After all, how could one build a meaningful friendship this way? But still, he couldn’t deny the warm glow lightly settled in his chest as he got up to move to his piano.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next four months Erik and Christine came to confide in each other, and they loved every conversation they had together. For Christine, 'AngelofMusic' was becoming one of her closest friends. She felt she could tell him anything. He never ceased to make her laugh with his dry humour and made her feel…well… somehow at home. For Erik, this mysterious 'ChorusGirl' was the only social aspect of his life, besides Nadir. During work, he found his thoughts drifting to her playful and charming banter as he fought to keep his face straight.  
Christine, for some reason unknown to her, wanted to keep the conversations secret. Meg had asked her if she had met anyone in particular on the site since, after all, she had been acting happier lately, but Christine brushed it off, saying no, and that she just happy because of her new apartment and with how business was going. She felt a little guilty about even keeping it from Raoul. But it wasn’t cheating, she reasoned, she had just made a close friend, and wanted to keep that to herself as some wonderful secret. She almost felt like if she told someone, the magic and mystery would disappear and that her friends would demand that she find out more about her Angel (a little term she had come to address him by).  
  
It just felt nice to have this one person who would not judge her on anything based on face value. Because of course, there was no ‘face’ in question to judge. She found herself telling her Angel about all the little quirks in her life and all of her favourite things while trying, and failing miserably, to not slide in a Sound of Music reference as an answer (He had, of course, caught it immediately). Once, Christine told him all about her favourite book, even urging him to read it:  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Of course I know how it ends. But every time I always feel anxious about whether Mr Darcy will really be able to tell Elizabeth how he feels and the language is so rich, it’s just so… Just read it. I know you’ll love it.'  
  
Erik did indeed read it. Forcing himself through every page until he finally managed to the predictably happy ending. Why he made such an effort was lost on him. He eventually reasoned that it was in the chance that she ask him to talk about it. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to come up. He, in turn, would offer links to different videos showing several classical pieces, asking her opinion and was often impressed by her reasoned and learned analysis. He was burning to ask her how she knew so much about music but he kept reminding himself that it was forbidden, as dramatic as that sounded. But then, there was a certain charm to this mystery.  
  
-  
  
On this morning four months later, Christine was making her way from her apartment to her store, kicking piles of fallen red leaves as she walked with a childish grin on her face. She loved New York at autumn. The air was crisp and fresh as she walked, leaving her with a charming red blush on her cheeks as she entered her shop’s street. Christine stopped briefly to take in the construction site taking the other side of the road, it had been going ahead for the past two months and was coming along extremely quickly, and nicely. In all honesty, she was a little excited to see what it would become and she entertained herself with ideas as she continued walking.  
  
The bell of The Music Corner rang as she stepped into her father’s old store, turning the ‘open’ sign as she went. Christine stopped in the entrance and looked around the room, proudly surveying her shop. It was a modest, but charming music store, with wooden shelves lined with small instruments, stretching eventually to the larger cellos and pianos at the back of the room. There was a tiny area where kids could sit and try out different instruments (her own idea), some bright posters were scattered around the wall with different bands over the shelf of CD’s, and, her favourite feature, a wall of glass cabinets where her father’s hand crafted violins proudly sat.  
  
After Gustave Daae had passed away five years ago from cancer, he had left everything to his only daughter. And now, at age twenty-five, Christine was still running her father’s beloved store, with everything he had taught her. Customers were steady. They knew Gustave well when he was alive, as he often gave free concerts on his violin. Besides which, he was well known for supplying good instruments of all sorts.  
  
Christine brushed past the selection of CD’s and music books to sit behind the heavy wooden counter, waiting for her co-worker to arrive. She couldn’t help but let her mind drift to her Angel, wondering what he was doing right now and smiling as she thought about it. She snapped back in place when she heard the bell ring and Meg came bustling in.  
  
“Hi Meg.”  
  
“Hey, Christine.” Her friend paused while she hung up her coat and looked at her. “You seem cheerful.” She said carefully. “What’s happened?”  
  
“Hmmm? Nothing.”  
  
Meg grinned at her, “Really? Because you haven’t even noticed that there is a particularly nice cookie sitting in front of you from a certain amazing friend.” Christine looked down to see that Meg had indeed slipped a cookie in front of her when she walked past. She grinned apologetically.  
  
“Thanks, I didn’t have time to grab anything on the way over.” Her friend gave her a knowing look.  
  
“I figured. You’ve been so distracted lately. Are you in love?”  
  
Christine’s head shot up. In love? “In love? No. Yes.” She checked herself. “Of course I am. I'm in love with Raoul. I'm practically living with Raoul. He visits almost every day.” No sooner had she finished her words when she heard the bell ring once more as her boyfriend strolled in, flushed and smiling.  
  
“Speak of the devil.” Meg laughed.  
  
“Hello, Meg. Hi little lotte”, he called walking over and pulling her in for a kiss while her friend busied herself with placing the new music books in order. “And by devil, I hope you mean devilishly handsome, Meg.”  
  
Christine smiled and placed her hands on Raoul’s chest, pushing him slightly. “What are you doing here? You are meant to be working. And so am I for that matter.” Raoul pouted as she slipped out of his arms and leaned against the counter.  
  
“It’s almost as it you don’t want to see me”, he said playfully. “Anyway it’s on my way to work. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”  
  
Christine pretended to look all stern as she pointed a finger at him. “Not if you’re fired for being late. Now go”, she said, gesturing to the door “You’re meant to act like a responsible lawyer, not a lovesick fool.”  
  
Raoul winked and twirled dramatically to the door, blowing a kiss. “Oh, but I am”. Christine laughed and waved him good naturedly out the door. As Raoul disappeared out of sight Christine let her smile fall a little. Unwrapping her cookie, she felt her mind drift off once more, lost in thought. She did love Raoul. Somewhere, she knew she did. After all, nine months of a happy relationship had to mean something. Didn’t it? She was so deep in thought that she jumped when she felt a light tapping on her shoulder from Meg.  
  
“Christine Daae. We have a full day of work ahead of us and you’ll need your strength. Eat the damn cookie. Honestly, what has gotten you so airy today?”  
  
Christine bit into her cookie as she thought of what to say. Could she keep going on like this? She was bursting to tell someone. Who better to tell than her best friend? She sighed.  
  
“Meg….I don’t know what to do.” Her friend waited for her to continue.  
  
“I’ve met someone.”  
  
Meg gasped. “Christine, but you’re with Raoul.”  
  
“It’s- it’s really nothing,” She stammered. “I don’t know why I brought it up. It's not like that. We just message.” Christine cleared her throat and busied herself with cleaning the counter, ignoring her friends gaze. “And anyway, I'm definitely thinking of stopping because it's getting….” She waved her hand as she searched for the word.  
  
“Out of hand?” Meg supplied.  
  
“No… because it’s nothing.” She finished up lamely, fixating her view on a particularly stubborn spot on the counter.  
  
Meg nodded slowly. “Huh. So what’s he like? This absolutely insignificant friend?”  
  
Christine tilted her head back as she thought. “He’s just this guy who I met in a chat room. He’s really nice. He’s charming, and funny-” she smiled involuntarily “-he has the most amazing, quick wit, and he is so engaging, and smart…” she filtered off with a small, content sigh.  
  
Meg felt a tiny smile creep up into her face. “My dear friend. You are in love.”  
  
Christine’s gaze snapped to her friend in shock. “I am not Meg. I have Raoul…and… Oh God.” She placed her head in her hands as her face flushed red. “I don’t even know him”  
  
Meg raised an eyebrow, reached into her handbag and pulled out another cookie. She sat in an armchair and looked at Christine expectantly.  
  
“Start from the beginning.”


	3. Chapter 3

Erik and Nadir walked through the construction site. All around them, builders were hauling tools, beams and lighting equipment as they attempted to work at the pace expected of their pay. Erik stood rigid, obviously uncomfortable with being out among so many people, even with the knowledge that they were paid to work, not to gawk at his mask. His mind was drifting as he tried to distract himself from all of the noise, settling on a musical melody that had been stuck in his head. It was itching to be written, played, and brought to life by Erik’s hand. It was inspired last night. That girl. Something about her made him want to write exquisite symphonies. He smiled lightly.  
  
“-And I was thinking, Carlotta should be on the advertisement for the theatre.”  
  
Erik felt his mind slam back into his body and he stared incredulously at Nadir. “What?”  
  
Nadir smiled and shook his head. “Knew that would get your attention. Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”  
  
Erik, cleared his throat and tried not to look sheepish. Even with his mask on, Nadir had a knack for guessing his facial features. Nadir sighed and gestured for Erik to follow him. He steered his friend away from the bustling site walked him to where the car was parked. There was no further need to be there anyway.  
  
“Look, I know you hate coming out in public and I’m sorry. I-”  
  
“It’s not that Nadir.” Erik said abruptly, cutting him off.  
  
“Oh… Then is it the theatre? You know we’ve done plenty like these before, all over the city. And it’s going to be wonderful. Just like all the others.”  
  
Erik sighed as they reached their car. “It’s not that either. Look, just… don’t worry about it. I had a late night composing. That’s all.”  
Nadir nodded, albeit slightly sceptically and slipped into the driver’s seat. “Well, we have a quick meeting with Andre and Firmin and then you can go home.”  
  
-  
  
What seemed hours later, Erik was sitting in the rather luxurious office at the top of the Garnier Corporation’s main building. He was doing his best to ignore the dull conversation around him and only catching small details as he drummed out a melody on his armrest. Firmin was sitting behind a large desk while Andre flipped through the latest business details.  
  
“Oh dear. Another independent music store has gone under in Washington, Churchill Road.” Firmin said dismissively.  
  
Andre looked up from his notes. “Didn’t we build a theatre around the same block?”  
  
Firmin nodded gleefully. “Another one bites the dust, eh?”  
The two men laughed as Nadir’s lip curled in thinly veiled distaste.  
  
“How is construction going on the new theatre?” Andre asked, suddenly turning to where Erik and Nadir were slouched.  
  
Nadir sat up a little straighter at being addressed. “It’s coming along well. If the extra workmen arrive tomorrow as planned, we can expect it finished by the end of the month. Erik and I are both a little concerned about the neighbourhood response though”.  
  
Firmin chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t worry. We’ll entice them as we always do.”  
  
“Oh yes.” Andre nodded. “With our vast range of quality performances”  
  
“Our surprisingly cheap lesson opportunities”, Firmin added.  
  
“And our extensive range of musical instruments.” Andre finished. “I believe our prices for instruments will be infinitely more preferable to what the store on the same street is selling. Stand-alone stores often ask higher. The public will come round”.  
  
“What was the store called, Andre?” asked Firmin as he sipped his coffee smugly. “The Corner of Music… or something?”  
  
“The Music Corner” Nadir supplied.  
  
Firmin snorted. “It’s rather tiny. Run by this horribly chirpy girl named Christine Daae.”  
  
Erik finally raised his head in attention at this news. He fixed Firmin with a curious look. “Daae, you say?” At Firmin’s nod Erik became thoughtful.  
  
“I think I know of her father. Gustave Daae. He was a great violinist.”  
  
“I think he died several years ago”. Andre said nonchalantly.  
  
Firmin cleared his throat, “That’s neither here nor there. Khan. Call the workers and ask them to put up the new sign today. We might as well let New York now we’re coming.”  
  
-  
  
A quick meeting, Nadir had said. Bah. It was a good 2 hours before those two idiots had finished bragging about their latest business conquests. Erik leant against his apartment door as is swung open and was immediately greeted by Ayesha rubbing against his legs. He smiled down at her and bent to scoop her up in one arm. He carried the cat through the dark house and into the kitchen to get her dinner.  
  
With her royal majesty happily eating a blend of chicken and tuna in the kitchen, Erik collapsed at his desk. He pulled off his mask with a relieved sigh and placed his ravaged face in his hands. He felt exhausted, and was weighed down by a small nagging guilt for the fate of the lone shop in Washington. He had never wanted to deny someone their chance in life. Especially if it was tied to music in some way. Since he had developed the company, Garnier’s had put dozens of businesses out. From theatres to the smallest of music stores. He was grateful for his success, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty at the idea that it was at the expense of others.  
  
Erik sighed. He needed someone to talk to. Not Nadir. Erik was reluctant to admit it, but over the years Nadir had gone from an assistant to a good friend. He wouldn’t admit it to Nadir of course. That fool was much too smug as it was.  
But no. He'd had enough of his company for one day. He needed to speak to ‘her’. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that she could lift his mood at any time. Pulling his laptop closer to him, he logged on and saw that there was a message already waiting for him.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘The most curious thing happened today. As I was reading a book, just as my page mentioned a butterfly, I looked up and saw one. Not amazing by itself, I know. But get this. It was in the subway car with me, of all places. Then it got off at 59th, where I assume it was going to buy a hat that will eventually be seen as a mistake and returned.’  
  
Erik chuckled at this whimsical story. Already feeling lighter than he had all day. He made himself some tea and prepared to settle in for another wonderful conversation with ‘ChorusGirl’, already feeling the melody flowing through his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’ll admit it. The whole thing sounds kind of romantic.”  
  
Meg had taken it rather well, all things considered. Of course she was slightly wary knowing that Christine knew next to nothing about who this mysterious man really was. But Christine insisted that his personality spoke volumes.  
  
“Fine. But you’ll have to tell Raoul.” Meg said finally.  
  
Christine sighed. “There’s really no need. It can’t go anywhere. And besides. We are just friends. I don’t even think he would be interested.”  
“I know. Just be careful, Christine.”  
The conversation lightened considerably after that.  
  
“Do you have any idea who he is?”  
  
“Meg I’ve told you. I have no idea.”  
  
Meg smiled gleefully. “So he could be anyone.”  
  
Christine absent-mindedly played a simple tune on a piano. “I guess. Yeah.”  
  
“It could even be the next person to walk through the door.”  
Just as she said these magic words, the doorbell rang and they swung their heads in time to see a silver-haired, man leaning heavily on his walking stick as he entered to look around for a new harmonica. Christine shot Meg a look, ignoring the girl as she chewed on her lip to keep from laughing.  
  
“Go get em, Tiger.”  
  
-  
  
A couple of days after this talk, just as they were closing up shop with Raoul’s help. Meg’s mother Antoinette Giry (who preferred the more respectful ‘Madame Giry’) entered the shop. Though sometimes stern, Christine dearly loved her as a daughter would a mother and looked around to greet her happily as soon as she saw the familiar black dress brush past the window. However, her smile faded as she saw her look of utter distress.  
  
“Madame Giry, what is the matter?” she asked rushing over.  
  
“Oh, my dear girl.” Madame Giry said, clasping Christine’s hand urgently. “You must come look.”  
  
Christine shot the others a worried look and the three of them followed Madame Giry out of the shop towards the further end of the street. She stopped suddenly at the nearly finished construction site, and gestured towards it. She needn’t have bothered. Christine’s gaze was immediately trained on the large sign in front of the site and her heart stopped. In big bold lettering were the words ‘Garnier’s Theatre and Music store- Coming Soon’. She felt a distinct chill settle in around her and she stumbled back slightly. She probably would have collapsed if Raoul hadn’t caught her arm, bringing her into a tight embrace.  
  
-  
  
“This could be good. Who knows?” Christine said airily as she set down her cup of strong tea. She ignored her friends’ doubtful looks. “It could be one of those arrangements that stores have. We could be the music district. What they don’t have in stock, we do.”  
  
“And Vice Versa” Meg muttered moodily.  
  
Christine gave a smile. It felt weak. “Oh don’t be like that. We’ll be fine. We have been here for years. People know us and know we have fantastic customer service and we actually care about music.” She ignored her friend’s weary posture and continued on with her pseudo-cheerfulness. “They’re big, impersonal and probably full of ignorant sales people.”  
  
Raoul closed the last blind and dusted off his hands. He looked over at the girls. Meg slumped gloomily in her seat and Christine, fiddling with her cup, looking for all the world like she was about to cry. He sighed and extended a hand to his friends.  
“Want to come over to mine? Disney, drinks and pizza? Just like the old times.”  
  
Christine took a deep breath to steady herself and smiled at her boyfriend. “That would be amazing, Raoul.”  
  
-  
  
Meg was asleep by the third film. She was nestled on one of the couches at Raoul’s and breathing evenly, exhausted from the day. Raoul and Christine were still up, cuddled together on the sofa and watching Atlantis (a grossly underrated film, in Christine’s opinion). Christine’s mind was buzzing, hardly focused on the film, as the events of the day crashed onto her shoulders over and over again.  
  
“Raoul?” she whispered.  
  
He gave a barely conscious grunt.  
  
“I don’t know how to do this, Raoul. How can I compete with this?”  
  
Raoul shifted around her and brought her closer, kissing her temple. “We’ll think of something, Lotte. I promise.”  
  
Christine waited for Raoul to fall asleep before disentangling herself from his embrace. She crept out of the room and sped to the bathroom, unable to keep her emotions at bay for a moment longer. She rapidly closed the bathroom door behind her and leant heavily against the sink, her shoulders heaving with shuddering breaths. She couldn’t help it. If she lost this store… she would lose everything connected with her father. It was his life and she felt his comfort every time she stepped through its familiar doors. To lose it all? Impossible. She would not be able to cope.  
  
“What can I do?” she whispered against the tears. Her back slid against the door until she sat down on the cold tiles.  
  
“Oh god, Papa. What do I do?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise they meet up soon.

The end of the month was fast approaching. Meaning that the nerves in The Music Corner were rising. The days were quickly becoming colder within August- suiting the stores atmosphere perfectly. The new theatre would open on the last day of the month. And though the theatre itself would not be up and running, the music store would be open immediately for business. Christine was determined to ignore the sombre tone hanging about the air. She refused for any cracks to show in her smile, would not allow for anyone to see the mounting stress building within her. Meg had her dance classes back on and was able to stay back less and less, leaving Christine with no one to talk to at the end of the day. Madame Giry was doing her best to be supportive, checking in on her during lunch breaks, and helping set up displays in the window. Raoul had assured her that he would do whatever he could to help out, but was often drawn away for work whenever he seemed to have a spare moment. Her main consolation through everything was her Angel, who kept her sane with their daily conversation, even when he was ranting about the modern music. It kept her mind from wondering to other things.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘It all smacks of unoriginality. If you’ve heard one, there is every chance that you will hear it a thousand times over from others. How anyone can listen to that repetitive drivel is absolutely beyond me.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Ummmm….’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Oh no!’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘What? I happen to like it, thank you very much.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I don’t know you. How could you do this to me?’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Don’t be so dramatic. I love all kinds of music.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I am betrayed. After news like this I have every right to be suitably horrified.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Drama queen’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Traitor’  
  
ChorusGirl:  
  
ChorusGirl:  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Thank you’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘For being a ‘drama queen’ as you so eloquently put it?’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘No. Not that. You’re still a melodramatic arse and there is no thanks in that.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Mhmmm. Well then, I am quite curious. What could I have done to get your thanks, if not with my entertaining theatrics?’  
ChorusGirl: ‘Things have been difficult for me lately. I know it may not seem like much, but these conversation with you every night help me get through these things. You help just by talking to me.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Is this something you want to talk about?’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘No. I worry enough about it all day. This is the only time where my mind is occupied by something else.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Very well. Just remember the offer still stands. And you are very welcome. In truth, I cherish these conversations just as much. So thank you.’  
  
-  
  
It was the beginning of September and the theatre’s construction was complete. Nadir had requested that Erik meet him in the newly finished foyer so they could survey the handiwork together. The masked man reluctantly agreed. After all, he had designed it. He might as well see the results of his work. Instead of in the foyer though, he found Nadir reclined in a seat in one of the boxes, observing the stage. Erik silently slid in the seat next to him.  
  
“Ah Erik, welcome to your new theatre. The extra workmen really came through. Don’t you agree?”  
  
Erik nodded slowly. Upon his arrival, he immediately surveyed the rooms with a critical eye, noting any simple last minute changes or finishing touches that could be added.  
  
“It is suitable. Not perfect. Not yet. But suitable.”  
  
“That’ll have to do”. Nadir sighed and closed his eyes as he relaxed in the chair. “I’m trying to savour every minute of peace I can get at the moment”. He gestured vaguely around him. “With this place now finished we are expecting people from our other theatres to arrive within the next few weeks to fill in crew and casting positions.”  
  
Erik glanced at his friend, “I believe it would be best if we held off on any auditions for a few months.”  
  
Nadir sat up straighter. “But why, Erik? I know you have your new piece, but it’s not ready as you keep saying. Now that this theatre is finished, they will expect a debut as soon as possible. At any rate, perhaps beginning with an Opera is not the way to entice the general public.”  
  
Erik pinched his masked brow as he thought. It’s true, he had wanted to have his masterpiece, Don Juan Triumphant, as the upcoming production. But it was unfinished. He sighed.  
  
“Very well. Have them put on Les Miserable. It is familiar enough that people will come to see it, and more inclusive of the wider public, besides, I believe it’s one of your favourites and you’ve been itching for an opportunity to put this on for some time.” He allowed a small smile towards his friend.  
  
Nadir relaxed. “Thank you, Erik.” He said as his friend got up to leave.  
  
“Deal with the auditions as you see fit. But remember, I will have final say.”


	6. Chapter 6

Erik had barely driven down the street when he saw the sign for a music store on the footpath. His gaze trained to the shop front in question and he slowed down, seeing the name ‘The Music Corner’ written in elegant calligraphy on the window. So this was the store that Andre and Firmin had mentioned. It didn’t look like much, really. But it was elegant, he supposed, even charming. The store was an older style, painted a rich green that looked fresh against the contrastingly bleak buildings surrounding. It had a heavy wooden sign hanging over the door, which was open, emitting a warm and welcoming glow. Almost like candlelight in the evening light. His curiosity piqued, he parked his car and rolled down the window for a better look. Immediately he was met with the most beautiful, pure voice he had ever heard and it was coming directly from the store. It was untrained, he could tell, but it hardly seemed to matter when the sound was filled with such soul and emotion. Allowing the sound to wash over him, Erik closed his eyes and simply listened until the singing stopped and a smattering of applause could be heard. Without even thinking, Erik was out of his car and walking through the door, barely remembering to pull his hat low over his mask as he went.  
  
A small crowd of people were sitting on various chairs and surfaces in the shop, all trained on the source of the beautiful melody and applauding appreciatively. Erik followed their gaze to see a young woman sitting at one of the pianos, bowing towards her audience. She was beautiful, Erik felt himself admit, with dark brown hair that fell in curls around her delicate features. She had lovely brown eyes that were crinkled merrily as she smiled and a small frame that would have barely come up to Erik’s shoulder if she was to stand next to him.  
  
Soon the crowd began to disperse, some exiting the store, while others began picking up instruments with a good deal of interest. Erik’s attention was only then drawn to the instruments around him. There was a decent variety for a store so small, he was rather impressed. He felt a familiar feeling of dread when he heard whispers beginning around him as people noticed his mask and he stared determinedly around the room. Attempting to ignore the looks of the people near him with his hands clenched nervously. Perhaps this was a bad idea. His gaze scanned over the guitars, keyboards and saxophones and eventually landed on the glass cabinets spanning the wall next to the counter. Earlier thoughts disappearing, he peered in to see six immaculate, hand crafted violins behind the glass.  
  
“They are wonderful aren’t they?” Erik jumped rather violently at the voice on his right. He turned to see the girl from before smiling apologetically up at him. “I am so sorry for startling you.”  
  
Erik straightened up and nodded. “It’s quite alright Miss…”  
  
“Daae. Christine Daae.”  
  
Erik felt shock simmer in his chest. She was Christine Daae? The violinist’s daughter? Owner of this shop? He was honestly expecting someone older and, well, not like her. In the back of his mind he remembered that he was right about his earlier height assumptions.  
  
“And you are?”  
  
He startled slightly, realising that her hand had been outstretched all while these thoughts were going through his head. He took her hand cautiously, eyes only now meeting hers. What was going on? Why wasn’t she staring at his mask?  
  
“Erik. Just call me Erik.”  
  
Christine nodded, smiling once more at him and he felt his confusion increase slightly. She didn’t seem put out at all.  
“Well, just Erik, you were looking at our violins. Do you play?”  
  
Erik thought carefully, feeling it was best to keep things close to his chest. “I have for most of my life. They seem well made”, he said, steering clear of details of his profession.  
  
Christine grinned and pulled out a key, unlocking the glass door. She gently picked up one of the violins and handed it to Erik. He handled the magnificent instrument carefully. “It is hand-crafted,” she said proudly, “By my father”.  
  
Erik placed the violin under his chin, admiring the feel. It fit well. It was practically perfect and he felt himself become more comfortable in the familiar sensation. “Gustave Daae?” he clarified. Christine nodded eagerly, her curls bobbing as she did so. She seemed thrilled by the mention of her father’s name. It was quite endearing. Erik mentally shook the thought away and continued,  
“I knew of his work, he was a great violinist that I respected. Though I didn’t know he made such fine instruments himself.”  
  
If possible, Christine’s smile grew and she gestured to the row of the other five violins. “He put all his love for music into every one.”  
  
Erik nodded. His mind made up. “I would like to take this one.”  
  
Christine’s face reflected shock. “R-really? But you haven’t even tried it. And the price-”  
  
“Mademoiselle, there is no need,” He said, cutting off any further protests, “I have been playing violins since I was a child. Believe me. I know when I am holding a quality instrument. This is perfect. And the price is no issue.” Though true, his words were worth the glow that came from the girl in front of him as she beckoned him towards the counter where a young blond woman was placing a ukulele in a case for a young man.  
  
“Come again soon.” She said, handing over the case.  
  
“Definitely. I’m gonna bring my girl back here some time.” He called over his shoulder as he made his was out.  
  
The blond girl smiled and glanced at Christine, “See. We’ll be fine. Our customers are loyal.”  
  
Christine nodded cheerily and turned back to Erik. “You see, they’ve just built a new theatre up the road from us. It’s got a larger music store attached.”  
  
Erik shuffled on his feet, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. “Oh?”  
  
“Mmmhmm. A great, big, dirty, impersonal thing. Ooh, what I wouldn't give to get my hands on the owner.” The blond girl nodded, looking up from the assortment of guitar picks on the counter. She froze as her gaze fell on the uncomfortable Erik properly as Christine ducked to the back of the shop to retrieve a case for the violin still in Erik’s hand. He averted his gaze, guessing what had made her react that way and consciously pulled his hat lower. The awkward silence was shattered as Christine came bustling in again and the girl excused herself to greet the other customers.  
  
“Here we are.” She said, setting a handsome leather case onto the counter and gently settling the violin in the satin interior. As she smiled once more, Erik thought he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes, but it must have been a trick of the light because she was now looking at him with a cheerful glint.  
  
“I've been in business forever.” She said as she tapped on the register keys. “I started helping my father here after school when I was six years old. I used to watch him as he brought music into people’s lives. When you play an instrument it becomes part of your identity in a way that nothing else in your life does” She shook her head and smiled at Erik apologetically, “Sorry, I get carried away. You’d think that after twenty years doing this, I would calm down.”  
  
He smiled gently and nodded. “I understand.”  
  
After that, he paid and was enthusiastically waved off by Christine. He felt oddly light as he made his way home.  
  
“Who was that weird guy Christine?” Meg asked after he had left. “What was with the mask? He was kind of creepy.”  
  
Christine shook her head, “I don’t know”. Whoever he was, he now carried one more piece of her father’s legacy with him.  



	7. Chapter 7

Raoul and Christine stood in an elevator on their way up to party for an author friend of Raoul’s who was celebrating his recent book publication. It was the first time that month that they had gone out together to anything. Raoul had been so busy the past couple of weeks on an important defense case and Christine was delighted when he suggested they go tonight. But despite all of her attempts to avoid the topic, the inevitable discussions about her shop began. Raoul was spurting off all of these crazy ideas on how to save the store. From small protests to crowd funding.  
  
“Really, Raoul. I appreciate all of the thought you’ve put into this. But it isn’t necessary.”  
  
Raoul looked shocked. “Not necessary? Christine, you need to understand, your business is in trouble and-“  
  
“There is enough business for everyone” She said, cutting him off. She sighed at her boyfriend’s slightly put out expression and took his hand. “I’m sorry, Raoul. It’s just that this is the first night in ages we’ve been out. I don’t want that weighing on my mind.”  
  
Raoul nodded and squeezed her hand just as the elevator doors opened to their floor. The apartment door opened before they could even knock and they were enthusiastically ushered in by Raoul’s jovial friend.  
  
“Raoul, how are you?” He asked, grabbing his friends hand and pumping it furiously.  
  
“Excellent, Josh. Congratulations on all this.” His friend beamed. “You remember Christine.”  
  
Josh smiled and kissed her hand. The couple were unfazed by it all. They were well acquainted with Josh’s enthusiastic greetings. “Please, go talk, enjoy yourselves.”  
  
Raoul clapped his friend on the shoulder and the two made their way through the stylish apartment. There were dozens of unfamiliar people around the room and Raoul was soon pulled from her side by a co-worker and was soon immersed in an intense discussion. This left Christine alone in the middle of the party. She decides to get a drink from the bar.  
  
Equipped with a large glass of red wine, Christine’s eyes scanned the room. They landed on a rather familiar white mask in the corner of the room. She smiled as she recognised Erik, standing away from the crowd and admiring a large display of books on the shelf. Taking a small sip of wine, she sidled over to him, unnoticed.  
  
“Fancy seeing you here of all places”.  
  
Erik’s gaze shot around wildly to the source of the voice and his eyes widened as they landed on Christine’s small figure. Christine continued,  
“Sorry. I seem to have a habit of startling you”.  
  
“So it would seem, Miss Daae.” He said. Was it just her imagination? Or did he seem slightly hesitant to speak to her? Nevertheless, she carried on.  
  
“Christine, please. What brings you here?”  
  
Erik waved a hand generally to the collective group of people around them, “my insufferable colleague insisted”. He looked around the room, seeming to search for someone.  
  
“How is the violin?”  
  
“What?” Erik said absently, before he looked at her again. “Oh, yes, the violin. It’s very well. Please excuse me. I must see to my colleague.”  
  
Christine felt rather put out as she watched him disappear into the crowd, leaving her alone once more.  
  
“Christine?”  
  
She turned and was thrilled to see a couple that she recognised. Her smile dropped, however, at their look of surprise.  
  
“I can’t believe you were just talking with Erik Devereux”, her friend said in a hushed whisper.  
  
Christine nodded in confusion. “Yes, he came into my shop earlier this week”.  
  
Her husband spoke up, “But Christine, don’t you know he’s the company in charge of that new theatre?”  
  
It was as if ice was dumped in her veins. She was overcome with a strange sweeping numbness as the sentence washed over her.  
  
“He is?” Her voice sounded so lost, even to her own ears. Whatever was said next was lost to her as her mind played over their meeting over and over. That was the owner? He had seemed so nice, so genuine. Whatever icy feeling left in her was dissolved as she felt her blood begin to boil. How dare he? How dare he play with her like that? She clenched her hand at the very idea of one of her father’s violins in his clutches. And she had been such an idiot to sell him one. Christine excused herself from the couple and made her way out onto the balcony. As she opened the doors she saw that it was completely empty, save for the tall silhouette of the man she had least wanted to see. But she was here now. And she would be damned if she made way for him. She marched up to his side and stretched up to her (admittedly pitiful) height.  
  
“So. Just Erik, huh?”  
  
The masked man turned to her. His head tilted in confusion.  
  
“Pardon me, Miss Daae?”  
  
“No. I rather think I won’t,” she snapped, “not when you have lied to me so viciously.”  
  
If he wasn’t wearing that blasted mask, Christine was sure she would see blatant shock on his features.  
  
“What were you doing in my store, Erik Devereux?”  
  
Despite asking him a question, she did not let him speak as she bulldozed through any excuse he could give her. “What was it? Was it just charity to you? Buying one of my father’s violins just because it allowed you to look better? UGH! I can’t believe how stupid I was to sell you one. Did you actually really know of my father or did you just research before you came in?”  
  
Erik’s gaze was beginning to darken. “Believe me,” he said, as evenly as he could manage, “that was not my intention”.  
  
“Oh. Then what was? Were you spying? Scoping out the competition?”  
  
She was unprepared for the dark chuckle that escaped from Erik. “Competition?” he sneered. “My dear, your store is hardly noteworthy enough to be labelled such an honour”.  
  
Christine visibly bristled. “Then why did you come?”  
  
“Oh, because you’re absolutely right.” He scoffed condescendingly, throwing up his hands. “I managed to get my hands on a secret printout of the sales figures of a music store so insignificant and yet so full of itself. Rather reflective of the owner, would you not agree? And naturally, I was instantly compelled to rush over and investigate it for fear it would drive me out of business.” his hands fiercely gripped the railing as he tried to calm himself down. He glanced at Christine, who was standing there speechless.  
  
“There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”  
  
Christine shook her head in disbelief and shot him a look of pure venom, before re-entering the party. She found Raoul and told him she was leaving. He looked at her with concern.  
  
“We’ve only just arrived. What’s happened?”  
  
Christine plastered on her carefree smile “Nothing. I’m just really tired suddenly- no- don’t worry. Stay here. I’ll make my way back. I’m sorry.”  
  
She made her way back to her apartment and slammed the door on her way in, her mind relaying their little conversation. She grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed all of her rage into it. Christine threw the pillow back onto the couch.  
  
To hell with Erik Devereux, and his high and mighty theatre. She would be damned if she let him get to her.


	8. Chapter 8

Christine lay in bed for hours later, stewing over the day’s events. Every so often she would feel a rush of regret for her accusations but that was then completely replaced with anger towards Erik and his actions. Eventually she gave up on sleep and moved to the lounge with a cup of hot chocolate, hoping her angel was online.  
  
-  
  
It was almost comical how much Erik’s actions mirrored Christine’s. He had also made his excuses to Nadir and left early. Instead of going to bed, however, he feverishly played the piano for hours, bringing whatever dark, hellish melody that crossed his mind to life. He slammed his hands down one final time, feeling all anger evaporating for a moment. He had been angry at that girl for her unwarranted accusations. Him. A spy? Ridiculous. Still, he remembered bitterly, he had been accused of, and treated with, far worse. Erik sighed and rested his face in his hands. His mask had been torn off the moment he entered his home. Underlying all of his anger was a distinct feeling of guilt for the things he had said. He revelled in her stunned reaction at the time. But now? Now it seemed a hollow victory at best. He stumbled to his study. He knew what he needed right now and he was relieved to see a recent message the moment he logged on.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Don’t you hate it when you meet the most arrogant of people?’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I know exactly what you mean.’ (The reply was instant, the events of the day all too fresh in his mind.)  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘But when I’m provoked, I seem to become the worst version of myself. All my arrogance, my spite, my condescension springs open.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘No. I get it and, honestly, I'm completely jealous. When it happens to me I get tongue-tied and my traitorous mind goes blank. I then spend all night trying to think of what I should have said.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Well then, I must educate you. From now on I’ll forward all of my responses to you.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Thank you. I’ll remember that’.  
  
ChorusGirl:  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘This is sudden but… do you think we should meet?’  
  
'AngelofMusic has logged off'  
  
Erik sat at his now blank computer screen, completely still, as he tried to process what had just happened. Meet? Why? Everything was going so well as it was. His eyes focused and he saw his reflection in the computer screen. His twisted visage stared right back. Erik ghosted his hands over his deformity, feeling the uneven blotches of skin and tracing the outline of where his nose ought to be. No. they could never meet.  
  
-  
  
The new store was open. The time had finally come and Christine was dreading the results at the end of the week. As for her angel, they carried on as normal, ignoring her previous message. She had told Meg all about the identity of the masked man and basked in her friends shared outrage. Whenever his obscured face came into her mind, she threw herself into her work with renewed vigour. She was determined to put him from her mind. She would not let that horrid man ruin her life and her shop.  
Working on the same street as him made that a difficult task. There were several mornings where she would be walking to work and caught a glimpse of that white mask as he walked in her direction. Christine pointedly looked the other way as they crossed paths. Perhaps it was childish but it suited her just fine. Other times, Erik would be in a coffee shop with Nadir and would notice her walk into the building with her friend. Whenever that happened he would subtly turn away from where they were standing and purposely busy himself with the sugar sachets.  
  
“I thought you hated sweet coffee?” Nadir said with a furrowed brow.  
  
“Just experimenting.” He would reply, feigning nonchalance.  
  
According to Andre and Firmin at the next meeting, the new music store was a great success. Erik was loath to enter the busy store himself, but Nadir had informed him that it was often full of both idly curious customers and serious musicians looking for their next instrument.  
  
“It’s a hit” Andre had called triumphantly as he entered the room, waving the sales results in the air.  
  
“How’s that little corner store, or whatever it’s called, going?” Firmin called over to Nadir from his desk.  
  
Nadir shuffled slightly “Not so well. Just this week its sales have decreased by 5%.”  
  
The two men laughed at the news “We’ll crush it.” They had said as Erik clamped a hand on his armrest and allowed himself a grim smile.  
  
-  
  
Christine was only too aware of the results of the week’s sales. Madame Giry has ignored her protests, insisting that she check them.  
  
“It’s not looking good.” She announced to the others. “Approximately $600 less than this week last year.”  
  
Everyone felt their heart sink at the news. “Maybe it’s a coincidence?” Raoul supplied hopefully.  
  
Christine shook her head miserably, “somehow I doubt it.”  
  
-  
Over the course of the next month business continued to decrease rapidly. Every time Madame Giry announced the new results, everyone became slightly more miserable. She needn’t have bothered as by the beginning of October the decline in sales became visibly obvious. The sound of the doorbell seemed to only ring twice a day. Once when Christine entered, and once when she left. To make matters worse, Raoul was called away to California to work with a client over there, and she had never felt so alone. He had apologised so sincerely before he left, and she couldn’t be angry at him. Not really.  
  
ChorusGirl: 'I’ve been thinking'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Quite the rarity, I’m sure.'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Oh shut up. I’m being serious here.'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Yes Ma’am'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Have you ever felt lost? It’s just that I can’t help but feel like I’m Just waiting while knowing that at some point, everything I’ve worked for is going to mean nothing.'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'It’s quite a common feeling, I’m sure. What brought this on?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'I’ve been doing what I’ve do every day for most of my life. I haven’t done anything spontaneous ever. I’ve always had this level of comfort and control over my life, somehow. And now life seems to be interested in sending a colossal tsunami of uncertainty and trial my way to throw me off balance. I can’t help but wonder, ‘is this it’?'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'I won’t pretend to know the answer to that. But being comfortable and feeling safe in one place is never a bad thing. As for this ‘tsunami’, maybe it is a new opportunity somehow. I don’t know what it is exactly that is causing you such worry but take it for what it can be useful for. Perhaps as a new challenge, only there to make you stronger and more resilient. It’s useless advice, I suppose. But, I am confident that you can fight whatever is in your way.'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'No. It helps. Thank you, Angel.'  
  
Christine logged off that night with a kindled determination. She would fight this with everything she had. She had to. After all. It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.  



	9. Chapter 9

“Erik, have you heard what’s going on down the road from our theatre?” Nadir called as he burst through the door to Erik’s apartment. Andre and Firmin had been complaining about the ‘nuisance of a store’ that had been organising small protests, talks and now involving newspapers and reporters, in order to fight against the theatre. He ran over with the news to Erik. He needn’t have bothered. He could have saved himself all that damn running. For there was Erik, reclined in the living room with Ayesha on his lap and staring at the television now showing the very topic he had come about. Neither he, nor his cat, looked up when he entered.  
  
‘We're here in front of The Music Corner, the beloved music store now on the verge of having to close its doors with the entrance of the new theatre and store opening only a few hundred feet away, effectively endangering the survival of this well-loved landmark.’  
  
“No, Nadir,” Erik said dryly over the reporter, ‘what on earth could be happening? Do tell.’  
  
Nadir scowled and sat on the couch next to Erik, ignoring Ayesha’s pointed glare at him. The screen flickered onto the store owner, allowing for him to see the infamous Christine Daae for himself. The girl looked somewhat nervous about being on camera, but at the same time, was staring down the barrel of the lens with a determination that Nadir found slightly admirable. When she was asked a question she seemed genuine and charming.  
  
“She’s not as nice as she appears,” he heard Erik mutter and his head whipped around to stare at his friend.  
  
“You’ve met her?” he asked incredulously.  
  
“Unfortunately, yes.” Erik growled. “Once at her own store and yet again at that confounded party, which, may I remind you, was your idea.”  
Nadir frowned. “What is she really like then?”  
  
Erik finally looked away from the screen to glower at his friend, “Quite possibly one of the most obnoxious, accusing, immature and bad-tempered people I had ever met. And yes-” he said before Nadir could respond, “I am considering Carlotta as well as I say this”.  
  
Nadir closed his mouth and waited several moments before saying anything.  
  
“Is there nothing redeemable about her?”  
  
“She’s labelling me as an ill-mannered, uncaring, beast,” he snarled, “So forgive me if I’m not inclined to admire her good qualities.”  
Leaning closer to peer at his friend, Nadir felt a small smile creep up. “You wouldn’t even consider her pretty?”  
  
Erik shot him a warning glance and that was all he needed to know. Fighting back a grin, Nadir cleared his throat as a more serious matter entered his mind.  
  
He kept his voice calm. “So. You know what they’re saying then? About you and your theatre?”  
  
Erik sighed and lazily gestured over to the coffee-table where a newspaper was left open. “I can handle their criticisms, Nadir. You know I’ve been dealt far worse than the insignificant opinions of a few columnists.”  
  
“But they’re calling you heartless and are labelling you as a power-hungry, recluse. We are being criticized for ruining the more unique character of New York.”  
  
His concerns were met with a rather bored tone. “Really, Daroga. You act as if we haven’t faced these issues before. Besides, what they fail to understand is that, as it is a theatre, I am bringing the character to them.”  
  
Nadir threw up hands in exasperation and made to leave. If Erik wanted to act like nothing was the matter that was fine with him. It saved him from having to deal with the aftermath of any of his… ‘Violent episodes’.  
  
Erik paused as his friend walked away, his next sentence barely audible, “It’s odd though. They don’t say anything about my mask.”  
Nadir stopped by the door, hand on the handle. It was true. There were no mentions and none of the usual attacks towards Erik and his more eccentric dress code. He looked around at his friend, “But you said the both of you met? Face to face?”  
  
“I know. But she didn’t say anything about it. Even when we first met.” He couldn’t hide the underlying confusion and amazement as he said those words “Everyone else stared and whispered. Even the other cashier. But she barely glanced at it.” His voice faded off in thought, completely oblivious to Nadir’s tiny smirk.  
  
-  
  
She had tried. Oh god, she had tried. She had done what her angel had said. She had risen up to meet the challenge. What else could she do? Christine had taken every suggestion from all of her friends. She had consulted with Raoul over the phone to make sure that everything was legally approached correctly. She had involved reporters for god’s sake, and Madame Giry had finally announced that their sales had not gone up one iota. Instead of the sense of victory she had expected at the beginning of the week, Christine now felt a looming inevitability. It was a horrible feeling that left her curled up on the sofa in her flat most nights. Every few minutes she would be able to distract herself before a wave of a feeling, which could only be described as despair, crashed down on her.  
  
She was so tired and though she was surrounded by friends, she had never felt so lost. She was slowly feeling herself become more distant from the others, particularly Raoul. He had told her that he would not be back for at least another two weeks, and she was finding it harder and harder to pick up the phone when he rang.  
  
Everything seemed to be going so well. There were hundreds of people that voiced their support for her store. There had been several interviews, most of which asked about anything she knew about Mr Devereux. She remembered asking the reporters not to involve the issues of his mask. Of course, Erik Devereux deserved every criticism in the world but, at the same time, it felt wrong to bring someone’s physical characteristics into a battle of business. But if she could never see his arrogant masked face again, she would be thrilled.  



	10. Chapter 10

To Christine’s utter dismay, she ran into the bastard yet again while she was out shopping. This was just weeks after realising her business might be over and she was feeling more bitter towards him than ever. She bit back a frustrated scream as she saw his tall form make its way through the store and turned to focus on her purchases.  
  
“That will be $87, thank you.” Christine absentmindedly dug through her purse and handed over some notes. She was too busy scanning the area and making sure that Erik Devereux was nowhere in sight.  
  
“You’re short $23, Miss” Christine’s gaze snapped back to the cashier who was fixing her with an impatient look. She quickly flipped open her purse once more and felt any comfort seep out of her. Of course. Of course she would leave her cards at home. She glanced up apologetically at the woman serving her.  
  
“I’m afraid that’s all I have.”  
  
She heard the collective groans of the customers waiting behind her and she felt her face heat up as ‘she doesn’t have the cash’, was repeated down the line.  
  
“Then you’ll have to replace some of the items.” The cashier said shortly.  
  
No, no, no, no, she was meant to be hosting a party this evening for Raoul coming home. She needed everything in her cart.  
  
“Get in another line, lady” someone called from the back of the line.  
  
“Look,” Christine pleaded, “I’ve left my card back at home. Would it be at all possible for you to put the items on hold-“  
  
“I'm sorry. We don't do that.” The cashier said abruptly. “Please put the items back.”  
  
Christine sighed and went to take remove some of the items. This could only be worse if-  
  
“Is there a problem?” said a calm, deeper voice from her right.  
  
Christine felt her whole body freeze up as the figure of Erik Devereux stood near her. There was a beat of silence while everyone stared at him before one man spoke up, sounding slightly nervous in addressing Erik.  
  
“Yes, there is a problem. This woman can’t pay for her items. She’s holding up the queue.”  
  
Erik pulled out his wallet, “Allow me.”  
  
Christine turned her head away from Erik. “That’s really not necessary.” Great. Just great. This was all she needed. She didn’t need this mans ‘charity’, her mind spat.  
  
“Miss Daae-”  
  
“I really don’t need these items anyway,” Christine snapped, grabbing the selection of cheeses from the counter to put them back.  
  
“Forgive me, Miss Daae,” he said steadily, his lip quirking in a condescending smile, “but it would seem that a cheese platter would be entirely pointless without the aforementioned cheese. Rather a crucial element, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Erik ignored all protests from Christine and handed over the money before holding out her bags for her to carry. It gave him a little satisfaction when she eventually took it- well, more like snatched it- from him.  
  
“Finally. Thank you.” Someone called from the line. Erik turned slowly to stare coldly at the man in question who shrunk under his gaze.  
  
“Oh, but of course. I always endeavour to make the lives of selfish, impatient, fools, such as yourself, that little bit easier. Good day.”  
  
With that, he strode off, leaving the customers in shock and Christine clutching her bags in distaste.  
  
-  
  
Christine refused to tell anyone about the days encounter with Mr Devereux. She loathed to think of someone knowing she owed him anything. The night’s party was a success, though. Raoul was back, Meg was flirting with most men in the room, Madame Giry was shooting her warning looks and everyone seemed to be having a good time. If she focused on the moment, it was almost as if everything was back to normal and she could breathe easily for a moment.  
  
But it never lasted. Whenever she thought of her store, her smile faded. There was only so many times she could dust the counter, arrange the CD’s and tune the instruments. It seemed that was all she ever did in a day at work. She tried singing to pass the time, but lately her heart wasn’t in it at all. What she wouldn’t give to speak to her angel now. To make matters worse, her angel had not been online for the past week and she didn’t know why.  
  
“Christine.” Her thoughts were interrupted by a smiling Raoul making his way through the crowd, holding two glasses of wine. He handed one to her and his grin faded slightly as he took in her expression.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
Christine shook her head to tear her mind from her looming thoughts and smiled up at him.  
  
“Everything is fine. I’m glad your back.”  
  
-  
  
After everyone had gone for the night. Before he left, Raoul had insisted that she go to bed and rest. Christine promised him that she would, but wanted to clean first. In fairness, she did. But after putting away the left-overs, washing the dishes and tidying the tables, she was left with a longing feeling. Her apartment was too quiet now that everyone had left and she didn't want sleep. She wanted company. She felt a little flutter of joy as she realised that she was now free to speak to her angel. Christine glanced at the clock above the mantle. It was 11:30. Would he be on now? She quickly got ready for bed and snuggled under the covers, pulling her laptop to sit securely on her lap. She logged on and checked her messages and her heart sank. None. She was about to close her laptop when she heard a familiar ‘ping’- a new message.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I know it’s late. I just had a feeling you would be on. How are you?’  
  
Christine felt a warm glow through her as she saw his name. It had been a long week without him.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘If I am honest, Angel? Not that well. I tried doing as you said. I really did. I rose to the occasion and I thought I had a chance. I’ve realised there is nothing more horrible than false hope’.  
Christine felt a small tear run down her cheek as she typed this as she finally voiced her despair after weeks of bottling it up.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I am truly sorry to hear that, my dear.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Is there anything I can do?’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I don’t know. It’s nice to be able to talk about it though.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘We’ll think of something.’  
  
-  
  
Erik felt as if he had been pacing for hours in front of his computer screen, toying with what he should do. He sincerely felt like he had to help this girl in any way he could. But that would be easier if he could discuss it face to face, to offer her proper comfort (admittedly, something he was not used to giving, but for her, he would try). Maybe she would see past the mask? He had been friends with Nadir for over a decade and he had never once questioned it, leaving for Erik to explain himself in his own time. This girl could be just like that. He’d never know if he didn’t try. And if he was truly honest with himself, he dearly wanted to meet her. He sighed and typed a response.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I know your still struggling with things right now. Do you want to meet up and talk about it?’  
  
He tore himself from the keyboard before he could hit send. He found himself a glass of whiskey to steady himself and stared at the message. Finally steeling himself, he hit send. This was it. Whatever happened next was up to her.  
  
  
  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I would love to meet. When? Where?’


	11. Chapter 11

Christine had felt her whole being jolt when she read the latest message from her Angel. Meet? But he had run off the last time she had suggested it. Nevertheless her heart fluttered with excitement at the idea of finally meeting him. She had quickly sat down at her keyboard and began typing eagerly.  
  
They soon settled it and Christine was waiting in a small café that Friday evening. Fidgeting with the placements on the table and finally ordering herself a coffee just to give her hands something to do.  
  
-  
  
She had run into the shop that cool morning, squealing about the news to Meg. This was it. She would finally meet her Angel.  
  
“Ohmigosh, Christine. That’s amazing.” Her friend pushed her enthusiastically onto the store’s armchair. “Quickly, give me the details.”  
  
“He asked to meet me. He said he wants to help me work out this thing with the store.”  
  
“I said details, Christine Daae. Where? When?” Meg said impatiently.  
  
Christine fought back a smile, “the café we normally go to at 7:00 tonight. I’m bringing my favourite book and a flower so he knows it’s me.”  
“Which flower?” Meg asked as she watched friends face flush lightly.  
  
“A- uh- a rose.” She muttered.  
  
“So romantic.” Meg sighed. “And finally, the most important detail of all, what will the Madame be wearing?”  
  
Christine shrugged and plucked at her casual jeans and maroon jumper. Meg looked appalled and pulled her friend up by her hand.  
  
“Over my dead body. Now. We are leaving an hour earlier tonight. No. don’t argue. I can ask mum to fill in. You are coming back to mine and we are going to sort you out. Got it?” she said fiercely. Clearly, Christine had no choice.  
  
“Yes, Miss Giry.”  
  
“Good”.  
  
-  
  
That was how Christine was now sitting in a lovely white skirt with a deep blue shirt under her coat and her makeup teetering on the brink of perfection. She sipped her coffee nervously as her eyes stayed transfixed on the door. What on earth could he be like? Was he tall? Handsome? Did he have dark hair? No hair? What colour were his eyes?  
  
… What if he was old? Good grief, why had they decided on so much secrecy?  
  
Christine sighed into her hands. She heard a light ringing and her head jerked up just as a kindly, pair of old women walked through the door. Not him. She sighed in… was it relief? No. She was a little nervous maybe, but she definitely did want to meet him.  
  
Trying to keep her mind at bay, she grabbed her copy of Pride and Prejudice and flipped through it. There was nothing she could do now but wait for him. She glanced at her phone. 7:05. Any minute now and she would meet her angel.  
  
-  
  
Erik was terrified. He didn’t really care what this girl was like, but if she didn’t accept him he would be distraught. He was dressed as he normally would be, white dress shirt, dress pants and a vest. Nothing fancy. It shouldn’t matter anyway, and it wouldn’t, if he could just keep his blasted mind from worrying about every detail. He had enough to worry about with just the mask for goodness sake.  
  
“Stop fidgeting, Erik.”  
  
He turned to his friend. “I can’t help it, Nadir,” he snapped as they walked down the street to the café. “This girl knows nothing about the mask. What if she screams? What if she demands I take it off?”  
  
Nadir placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder, stopping him. “How long have you been talking to each other, Erik?”  
  
“I don’t know. Seven- maybe eight months?”  
  
Nadir held Erik’s gaze, “and do you think she would be the type to just throw away eight months of friendship without giving you a chance to even explain why you wear the mask?”  
  
Erik sighed a shook his head. No. She was wonderful. She couldn’t be like that. Nadir clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a nudge to keep walking.  
  
-  
  
Nadir had been surprised –an understatement perhaps- when he opened his door late that afternoon to see Erik, wringing his hands and looking incredibly worried on his doorstep. It had taken over half an hour of questioning to get the full story and Nadir was shocked. His reclusive, masked friend, who actively avoided socialising, had met someone online? Not only that, he had agreed to meet them in person. He had received quite the death glare after he had laughed himself to tears.  
  
“When you have quite finished, Daroga.”  
  
Nadir allowed himself one last chuckle and wiped his eyes. “Oh Erik, this is marvellous. You are meeting her tonight?”  
  
Erik sat down heavily and placed his masked head in his hands. “Yes. And no, Nadir, this is not ‘marvellous’, it is a disaster. What was I thinking? She knows nothing about me. I know nothing about her.”  
  
Nadir frowned, “but you said you were talking for several months? Surely some details slipped?”  
  
Erik shook his head, still in his hands. “We agreed we would not give anything away. I don’t know who she is. God, Daroga,” he moaned, clinging violently to his hair, “she doesn’t even know about my mask.”  
  
Nadir sat down beside Erik on the couch, not sure how to answer.  
  
After several minutes in unsure silence, Erik raised his head once more to look at Nadir. He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Would you-“ he struggled for a moment, “would you come with me?” he murmured.  
  
Nadir was slightly shocked. After years of knowing Erik, he had never heard his friend sound so lost. Erik looked almost like a child at this moment and he felt sorry for his friend. He was obviously terrified. Nadir placed a hand on his friends shoulder, ignoring the way he stilled under his touch.  
  
“Of course. I will come with you, but only to the entrance of the café. You must meet this girl on your own.”  
  
Erik nodded.  
  
-  
  
Now, the two of them stood in front of the café. It was a nice venue, but the floor was elevated up several stairs and neither of them could peer through the windows to look inside.  
  
“How will you know which one is her?” Nadir asked.  
  
Erik was scanning the building’s exterior anxiously. It took a moment for the question to register. “Hmmm? Oh. She’ll be carrying a book and flower.”  
  
Nadir smiled at the cliché.  
  
“Nadir?” Erik was now leaning heavily against the railing of the fence outside the restaurant, his hands clenching the bars like a lifeline. “Would you go look for me?”  
  
He shook his head at this new anxious side to his friend and began walking up the stairs. “You are a coward, Erik Devereux.”  
  
“Yes, I know. Now tell me, do you see her?” he hissed nervously.  
  
Nadir huffed and peered through the window at the top of the stairs and into the café.  
  
Erik was focusing on calming his breathing when he heard Nadir speak up, “I see a young woman.”  
  
His heart stilled. “And?” he prompted impatiently.  
  
“She’s beautiful,”  
  
Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to picture her. Beautiful? Of course she was.  
  
“-but no book or flower, my friend. Sorry.”  
  
Erik froze and felt his hands twitch as he shot the Daroga the most venomous look he could muster. Nadir quickly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and turned back to the window, fighting off his grin.  
  
“Oh, hang on. There’s one with a book and a flower, it must be her, wait- just stop fidgeting, Erik- there are a couple of diners moving in the way.”  
  
Erik groaned and pinched the bridge of his masked nose. Why was this so difficult?  
  
“Okay,” Nadir called out again, snapping Erik out of his misery, “they’ve moved, and…….”  
  
Nadir’s voice had completely dropped off and Erik turned to see his friend looking through the window, shock and uncertainty clear on his face? Erik felt panic start to settle in once more.  
  
“What? What is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
Nadir jerked out of his thoughts and turned to his friend, “What? Oh nothing- it’s just… well, she’s definitely pretty. Almost like- um”, he nervously clicked his fingers and he tried to find the words. “I believe she has a similar kind of appearance as that Christine Daae.”  
  
Erik nodded slowly, frowning. What? Christine Daae? He didn’t want to hear about that woman at all tonight.  
  
“What has she to do with any of this?”  
  
Erik started to become more worried when he saw Nadir step back from the window and shift his gaze repeatedly between Erik and the woman he saw in the café. Nadir sighed,  
  
“Erik, I don’t think you will like this woman.”  
  
Erik was taken aback by this statement. What could be so terrible about this woman from first glance that she could deter him so?  
  
“And what makes you so certain, Daroga?” he asked cautiously.  
  
Nadir gave him a hesitant look, “Because it is Christine Daae”.


	12. Chapter 12

Christine’s coffee was cold. She closed her book, having hardly read a word anyway, and glanced at her watch yet again. Her heart sank as 7:20pm blared back at her. Where was he? Was he stuck in traffic? Christine clenched her fist and took a deep breath. He would not stand her up. She knew it. He was just running late. Repeating that line to herself as a mantra, Christine ordered herself another coffee, determined to give her angel more time.  
  
“Excuse me?” a man asked. Christine jumped slightly and gave a friendly smile, her mind racing. Was this him? He had finally come. The man smiled apologetically and grasped the opposing chair,  
  
“Do you mind if I take this?”  
  
Christine’s smile shrank slightly. It wasn’t him. She felt her whole body deflate under the realisation. “Yes I do mind,” she said as politely as she could, “I’m expecting someone”.  
  
The man nodded and had just turned to walk off, when the doorbell rang once more and Christine looked hopefully around him. She froze. What was he doing here? Erik Devereux had just walked into the café –of all the cafés in the city- and was now idly browsing the selection of cakes behind the counter. His head began to turn in her direction and Christine quickly flipped open her book once more and leant over it, trying to look inconspicuous.  
  
‘Go away, go away, go away’ she mentally screamed. As she heard footsteps approaching her table, she knew her prayers were left unanswered.  
  
“Ah. Miss Daae. What a coincidence to find you here.” came Erik’s elegant voice over the light din of the café.  
  
Without looking up from her book she waved her hand in a pathetic form of greeting.  
  
“Do you mind if I sit down?”  
  
That made her head shoot up. “Yes” she said suddenly, “yes, I’m expecting a friend any minute now.”  
  
As if she had graciously offered it instead of rebuffing him so blatantly, Erik eased into the chair opposite her. Shooting him a glare, Christine quickly took in his appearance. He was dressed rather well for a simple café meeting, but then he always was dressed well. It added to that cynical snobbery she hated so much. Really. Who wears a vest to a coffeehouse? And she noted that, as ever before, the infuriating mask was still in place.  
  
While she was assessing his attire, she failed to notice Erik take her copy of Pride and Prejudice until he was flicking through the pages right in front of her. Infuriated, she all but snatched it from his hands.  
  
“Do you mind?” she snapped, careful to say it quietly enough to not attract attention from other tables.  
  
“Austen-” his amber eyes flickered to the flower on the table, “and a rose too? Quite the romantic twist for a friendly meeting, Miss Daae.”  
  
“It’s one of my favourite books, I brought it to pass the time,” Christine lied, “I picked the flower on the way here and I wasn’t going to throw it away”.  
  
For some reason, Erik looked unconvinced. He glanced at his watch. “Is your friend late?” he asked, feigning curiosity.  
  
Christine didn’t answer, not wanting to be reminded. Where was he?  
  
“And you needn’t worry about me stealing your novel. I’ve already read it.”  
  
“That’s hardly a unique achievement.” She retorted.  
  
“It is just one of the many I have made. You would be surprised to learn them if you could just get past the- what was it? Oh yes- the ‘ill-mannered, uncaring, beastly’ façade you have conjured up for me.” He sneered.  
  
Refusing to feel ashamed, Christine leant forward, “If I was to get past your so-called ‘façade’, I know what I would find- instead of a mind, a cash register and instead of a heart, a shard of ice”.  
  
Shocked at her words, Christine let her mouth drop open before she suddenly began grinning.  
  
Erik’s affronted gaze gave way to a look of puzzlement. Well- it could have been puzzlement. Christine found it hard to read a person’s face when everything from the mouth up was covered.  
  
“I just had a breakthrough.” She smiled in amazement and gestured at him, “For the first time in my life, when confronted with a horrible, insensitive person I actually knew exactly what I wanted to say and I said it.”  
  
Erik tried to hide his discomfort under nonchalance. “Well then I must offer my congratulations, it was a magnificent blend of poetry and rudeness.”  
  
Before she could say anything further, she was interrupted by the doorbell and all comebacks evaporated as she suddenly stopped to stare at the door. Erik noticed the way she deflated once she saw it wasn’t her angel and felt guilt begin to claw at him at her look of disappointment.  
  
“Is it not him?”  
  
Christine looked down at the table, fighting back tears.  
  
Erik went on, curious at her reaction, “So who is this mysterious friend, I wonder? Will you introduce him to your sharp wit and be rude to him too?”  
  
Christine met his gaze angrily, “he would not deserve it, unlike some.” she snapped. “The man I am meeting here tonight is not like you at all, thank goodness. He his kind and funny and genuinely cares-“  
  
“But,” Erik said, cutting off her rant, “He doesn’t seem to be here”.  
  
“He must have a good excuse,” she said protectively, “because there is not a cruel or selfish bone in his body.”  
  
At the look of absolute doubt on his face, Christine continued. She had no idea where what she said came from.  
  
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand that. You with your dozens of theatres putting people out of business. You have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that you’re some sort of benefit to the city.”  
  
Erik’s eyes were like slits by now as he glared at her. “You think your opinion is truly valid to me?” he scoffed.  
  
“Do you think I would care if it weren’t?” she hissed back.  
  
She should have stopped, but she couldn’t. Seeing him in front of her made her want to tell him exactly how she felt, to let him know of just a sliver of the pain and uncertainty she was going through.  
  
“After you’ve destroyed the livelihood of so many people, no one will ever remember you with kindness, Erik Devereux. And maybe no one will remember me either, but they remember my father and they think he was wonderful.” Erik sat there with a pained look in his eyes. Christine sat back and coldly dealt the final blow. “You are nothing but a cruel, monster of a man, hiding behind a mask.”  
  
Finally finished, her heart stopped as her mind caught up with her words just as a sudden stillness descended between them. Christine felt her hand rise to cover her mouth in shock and she warily looked at Erik, who was now looking down at the table, his hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. He was breathing rather rapidly, trying to calm himself down. Finally, he raised his head slightly and she bit back a gasp as she saw the look of absolute self-loathing shining in his eyes. They seemed to hold all the sadness of the world.  
  
He cleared his throat and moved to collect his coat from the tabletop. He stood up abruptly and nodded to her once, not managing to meet her eyes.  
  
“Miss Daae.”  
  
She felt herself wishing to call out to his retreating form. To apologise? She wasn’t sure.  
  
Christine sat in stunned silence long after he had left. Her words were playing over and over in her head. Each replay made her feel more wretched. How dare she speak to anyone like that? Erik Devereux may be horrible but surely no one deserved that. And of all things, she attacked his mask. She groaned into her hands. Why on earth had she said those cruel things? Trying to distract herself, Christine glanced at her watch once more. It was now 8:10. She felt any hope dissolve. He wasn’t coming. Fighting for control over her emotions, Christine silently collected her things and left the café, letting the rose fall into the rubbish bin on her way out.


	13. Chapter 13

Christine was in a miserable state by the time she got home. The moment her door shut she finally allowed her pent up frustration to cascade in tears down her face. What had happened tonight? How on earth could everything have gone so, so wrong? Sniffling, she hung up her coat and unpinned her hair before making her way to the laptop in the lounge room. It sat there, unassuming but so full of potential. At this very moment it could hold an explanation, an apology, or even just a small sign. Just something to assure Christine that her angel was still there. Even though he wasn’t there tonight.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she opened the computer and waited impatiently for it to log on. Her eyes soon flickered eagerly to the top corner of her account.  
  
‘NO MAIL’  
  
Defeated, Christine closed her laptop and sighed, allowing a few more tears to escape. She sat in darkness for several minutes with nothing but the night’s events for company, before she climbed in to bed, not bothering to change, and turned off the lights. She hoped that sleep would come soon.  
  
-  
  
Erik had turned his phone off the moment he entered his apartment. The last thing he wanted was to talk to Nadir and re-live what happened between him and Christine. His mind was still reeling from the whole experience and he slumped heavily onto his couch, head adopting the familiar position in his hands. He was shaking slightly as her words were relived over and over in his head. A monster. She had called him a monster. Erik shuddered and gave a dark laugh as his fingers traced the outline of his mask. How close she had been to the truth.  
  
And she was ‘ChorusGirl’? His mind did not want to believe what was so clearly in front of him. It all made sense. The struggling she had been telling him about. The very situation he had attempted to comfort her about, had been his own doing. He shuddered with guilt as he remembered every conversation where he had been certain she was crying with distress on the other line… and now he knew it was all because of him.  
  
But the things she had said to him tonight… it was so unlike the girl he thought he knew. Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t even know what she was truly like in real life. ‘ChorusGirl’ was sweet, funny, charming… but Christine Daae? How could they be the same person? Erik massaged his head as he tried to think. He jumped when he felt Ayesha rub her head against his hand for petting and he sighed, scratching behind her ear. Soon, her steady purring began to sooth him.  
  
-  
  
Meg was standing eagerly behind the counter of the quiet store the next day. As soon as she saw Christine walk through the door she clapped her hands excitedly and gestured for her friend to sit.  
  
“So. Sit down. Tell me everything.” She chirped.  
  
Christine slumped into the chair and stared at her feet. She had gotten next to no sleep last night. Her mind was too wracked with guilt for what she had said to Erik and too full of excuses and questions for her angel. She felt tired and wretched and seeing Meg so excited for her only seemed to make it worse.  
  
“He didn’t come.”  
  
Meg gasped in outrage, “he stood you up?”  
  
“What? No.” Christine looked up at her friend. “Something must have happened to him. He would not just do that. I know it.”  
  
And yet, she recalled the way he reacted to the first time she had suggested they meet up. How he had just ignored her suggestion and logged off. Had he been scared to meet her? Had she really been stood up? She groaned into her hands.  
  
“What if he was there, Meg?” she wailed. “What if he took one look at me and ran off?”  
  
Meg lightly smacked her friend on the head. “Don’t be like that. It’s not possible, especially after my gorgeous make-up skills. He might have been stuck in traffic?”  
  
Christine nodded. “Maybe.”  
  
“Or maybe he was in a car accident.” Meg continued, “He could be lying in a hospital right now with both arms broken and-“  
  
“Gaah! No. Stop it. I don’t want to think of him like that.” Despite herself, Christine smiled at her friend’s antics.  
  
Meg turned back to the counter. “So,” she called over her shoulder, giving her friend a concerned glance, “How long did you wait there alone?”  
  
Christine sat up straighter. “You’re not going to believe this, but Erik Devereux came and-“  
  
“Erik Devereux?” Meg gasped. “That slimy bastard seems to be everywhere. What did he do? Did he come to gloat or something?"  
  
“No, Meg-” she assured her quickly, “he just sat with me and… I said some horrible things to him. Things he didn’t really deserve.”  
  
Christine stared back down at her shoes. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s just get to work.” She looked around hopefully for something to do. But the sign was flipped, everything was cleaned last night and even the backroom was neatly ordered and arranged. There was nothing.  
She sighed and sat by the piano to practise, seeing as there was nothing else to do.  
  
-  
  
“For the last time, Khan, I will not discuss it.” Erik snapped at his prying friend. He had reluctantly showed up at the theatre the next day, careful to avoid walking past the Music Corner. The moment he turned on his phone again he saw his inbox was full of messages from Nadir asking about last night and insisting he return to the theatre to oversee the rehearsals. Christmas was fast approaching and their first production was well underway to be performed next month in the new year. As soon as he entered the foyer he was pulled aside by his irritating friend and badgered for details. Erik refused to tell him anything.  
  
“It went about as well as expected. Previous conversations between us should hardly make that a surprising revelation.”  
  
Nadir heaved a sigh. “Who knows, Erik? Maybe beyond that prickly exterior she could be a delightful person.”  
  
Erik shook his head. “If she ever could be, it would never be directed towards me.”  
  
-  
  
“What do I do, my girl?” he murmured to Ayesha that night as he sat at his piano. What indeed? He couldn’t keep talking to her now he knew the truth… Could he? No. It would be a lie to the both of them.  
  
“Why didn’t I just tell her the moment I entered that damned café?” he groaned.  
  
But even as he said that he knew the answer. He didn’t want to give up talking with ‘ChorusGirl’. She made him smile and laugh. She made him feel… wanted. Whenever he had thought of her teasing jokes and charming banter, he couldn’t help the warm glow in his chest. In those moments it didn't matter that he wore a mask. He felt normal. For those dear things he could manage a small pretence. Just for a while longer at least. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. This woman had all but destroyed him yesterday with her words and here he was, trying to keep her in his life. But, he could not give that feeling up. To her he was still her angel. Not Erik. And she was his dearest friend.  
  
Erik glanced at his desk where his computer sat and shook his head. No doubt she was waiting for some sort of assurance from her angel. He could clearly picture the obvious look of disappointment in her eyes every time she glanced at her watch or at the door. She deserved some explanation. He couldn't tell her the truth. She would be furious and never speak to him again at all. He could make up some believable excuse with ease… anything but the truth.  
  
But for now, he needed time.


	14. Chapter 14

Two weeks. Erik had left it two weeks before he could pluck up the courage to look at his inbox once more. And they seemed to be the blandest, loneliest weeks he had ever encountered. For fourteen days he had thrown himself into writing his opera and overseeing the production at the theatre, trying desperately to put it all from his mind. Fourteen days without any contact with his friend. Everything else was running smoothly and he would have been content if it weren’t for the niggling thought in the back of his mind. He missed her.  
  
Finally, Erik decided to face it. Snow was falling outside the window as he sat in front of the fire, whisky in hand and laptop open in front of him. He wasn’t surprised to see several messages from ‘ChorusGirl’- No. Not ‘ChorusGirl’- Christine. She was Christine. There was no point lying to himself about it.  
  
Hovering over the notifications for a moment longer, Erik took a deep breath and clicked on the messages. They were dated from the night after their last meeting. He hesitantly began to read. He owed her that courtesy at least.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I have been thinking about you. I wish I knew why you weren’t there last night. I felt so foolish sitting there.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Someone else showed up, though. This man who has knowingly made my professional life a misery had the nerve to sit where you should have sat, and an amazing thing happened, Angel. I was able to say the exact thing I wanted to say, for the first time in my life. But, just as you said I would, I felt truly awful afterwards.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I was cruel to him. No matter what he's done to me, there's no excuse for the way I treated him. And even though I hardly believed that anything I said could ever matter to this man- I could see it did.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I wish I could tell him how much I regret what I said. You are my dear friend, and so I wanted to talk to you about it.’  
By now, Erik was leaning back in his chair, that familiar warm feeling sitting in his chest and no small amount of shock. He had seen the surprise flash on her face at the time of course. But to really see just how much she regretted her actions was completely unexpected to him. He flicked through several more messages all asking him where he was, why he wasn’t speaking to her, in one she asked if he was feeling well, and had sent a selection of songs to cheer him up. (He was appalled to find that she had cheekily slipped in a pop song among the classical pieces).  
Finally he got to the last message. It was sent last night. Erik opened it curiously- what else could she say on the matter?  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Hello Angel. I’ve missed you these passed days. I don’t know why you were not there, or even if you have a good reason. Maybe you’ve just realised how ridiculous it is to talk with a complete stranger and that’s why I haven’t heard from you in so long. But if we never talk again, I just need to tell you how much it has meant to me to know you were there for me.’  
  
The warm feeling increased even as Erik frowned over her message. She thought he did not want to even talk to her now? Oh, but he wanted nothing more than to keep talking with her. This Christine.  
  
Erik shook his head, at a sudden loss on how to reply to any of this. He got up from the computer and paced. He went into the kitchen and fed Ayesha, before sitting back down and drummed his fingers as he waited for inspiration to strike him.  
  
He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet.  
  
Erik pulled the laptop towards him and began typing. And backspacing. And editing. And backspacing again. After several minutes he groaned and shoved the computer away from him again. Why was this so difficult? His eyes flickered through her messages and softened. She had been so sincere when she was talking with him. He sighed. The least he could do was return the favour. He began again.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘My dear friend: I’m afraid I cannot tell you what happened that night, nor why I couldn’t speak to you these past weeks. Am I foolish to hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for not being there?’-  
  
Erik frowned and deleted the last three words before continuing.  
  
‘-for what happened? I feel terrible that you found yourself in a situation that caused you only more pain and confusion. However, I am absolutely certain that whatever you said to this man was provoked, and even deserved. In my experience, everyone says things they regret when they're worried or stressed, and you had every cause to be. You were expecting to see someone you trusted and met the enemy in his place. The fault is mine. But, I'm still here for you. For as long as you need me.’  
  
He closed his eyes and hit send.  
  
-  
  
“So are you meeting again?”  
  
Christine shook her head and sipped her coffee, looking between Madame Giry and Meg. “He didn’t say anything about it. It doesn’t matter though,” she smiled gently at her hands, “I’m just glad to have him back. Especially now.”  
  
Her two friends exchanged glances. Madame Giry got up from the table and went to her pantry to bring out some biscuits. “Especially now, what?” she asked, offering a plate of digestives. Christine took one and bit into it, chewing slowly as she prepared herself. She swallowed and took a deep breath.  
  
“I am closing the store.”  
  
Meg’s cup fell back onto her saucer, her tea slopping over the side, “WHAT?!” she cried. “But why?”  
  
Madame Giry frowned and handed her daughter a towel, “You’ve heard the ongoing results every week, Meg. I’m sure you know why.” She turned to Christine and fixed her with a look of concern. “You are sure, my dear? This is rather sudden.”  
  
Christine looked down at her cup and nodded. “I don’t want to.” She said thickly. “But what else can I do? It’s like you said Madame-” her sentence was cut off as he voice cracked with emotion. She took a steadying breath and Madame Giry took one hand in hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Christine gave her a small smile.  
  
“What does Raoul say?”  
  
Her small smile faded slightly. “Raoul… He doesn’t know yet. He’s been so busy lately at work and we haven’t spoken in over a week.” Christine tried to ignore Madame Giry’s frown at this.  
  
“There will be a final sale in ten days.” She whispered, still trying to control her emotions.  
  
“This isn’t fair.” Meg fumed, biting into a biscuit angrily. “What are you going to do afterwards?”  
  
Stirring her drink idly, Christine shrugged in an attempt to act nonchalant- as if she hadn’t been kept up worrying about this. “I thought about writing my own music or playing piano professionally.”  
  
Madame Giry nodded. “That sounds wonderful. You would do splendidly.”  
  
Noticing Meg’s still disgruntled expression, Christine turned to her friend. “I will give you excellent recommendations wherever you choose to work next, Meg. It’s the least I can do.”  
  
“You don’t have to.” Meg said. “In fact, there were rumours of my dance class being contracted to dance for some theatre. We don’t know which one it is yet, but we are all expected to transfer to their employment.”  
  
Christine was happy for her friend, but surprised. “That’s amazing. You’ve always wanted to dance on stage. When did you here that.”  
  
Meg shrugged bashfully, “Only last night.”  
  
Christine fixed a bright smile on her face, determined to be happy for her friend. “See. This could be a brand new start for us all.”  
  
She just hoped in her heart that it was true.


	15. Chapter 15

Bursting in through the door, Firmin waved the morning paper triumphantly in the air. “We have done it.” He crowed to the room.  
  
Erik raised his head slowly to look at Firmin with thinly veiled disinterest.  
  
“Done what?” Andre asked.  
  
Firmin flicked through the paper and threw it on the table in front of them. “There. That little nuisance of a shop has finally decided to close its doors at last.”  
  
Erik felt cold and reached for the paper, ignoring Nadir’s obvious glance towards him.  
  
“The one down the road from the theatre?” Andre queried, leaning over to read the article in his own copy.  
  
“The very same. They have announced a closing down sale at the end of the week.”  
  
The conversation was fading from Erik’s interest as he stared at the paper now in front of him. It was a modest article. Not really one that many would notice, only a few, small paragraphs. There was an image of the charming store front which his eyes scanned over, eventually landing on a photograph next to it. It showed two people. One was an older man. He was holding up a little girl, she couldn’t have been older than seven, as she perched on what he recognised to be the shops wooden counter. She was beaming at the camera, with her hair tied back prettily while the man looked at her with unveiled love. Erik didn’t need to read the caption to realise who they were. Christine looked so happy and carefree with her father. The very sight made Erik feel wretched. He had destroyed any remaining connections within that family. He turned his head away from the photo. He did not deserve her smile. Especially now.  
  
“Erik?” he distantly heard someone calling. He looked up from the article. The other three men were staring at him.  
  
He looked between them coolly. “Pardon me, gentlemen, I was reading about our latest-,” he glanced at Firmin, who shifted slightly under his gaze “-victory.”  
  
Andre cleared his throat, “Yes, well. We were asking when you intend to consider casting choices for your new opera.”  
  
Erik folded the paper over so he couldn’t see the pair smiling up at him. “I have selected every part except one.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Erik nodded. “The spot for the leading female role is still vacant, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Do you have any you are considering at the moment?” Andre asked.  
  
Without prompting, his mind wondered to the night when he heard that beautiful sound come from that shop. Even now, the angelic voice left him spellbound. His eyes drifted to the paper in his hand, where he knew the picture of young Christine Daae sat.  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
-  
  
Christine sat in front of the TV that evening, happily enjoying her favourite program. She had decided not to dwell on anything for that moment and finally take some time for herself. It had been so long. She had just buzzed Raoul into the building and he should be there any second. For the first time in two weeks they were finally able to spend some time together and it was such a welcome relief. He had mentioned that he needed to tell her something.  
  
“It’s open.” Christine called when she heard him knock on the door.  
  
“Hi, Christine” he said, as he entered the room. Christine eagerly budged up on the sofa so he could sit next to her.  
  
She beamed at him, “How have you been, Raoul?”  
  
Raoul nodded as he sat down, “Yeah, good. Great.”  
  
Raoul looped his arm around her shoulders and they sat in silence, staring at the screen. It was nice. It always was nice to just sit with Raoul. But something felt off. It had been two weeks and all he said was a brief ‘hi’. Christine couldn’t help but wonder what he had come to actually talk about. She glanced at her boyfriend. He didn’t seem to be taking anything in from the show. In fact he looked like he was struggling to think of how to break the silence. Christine cleared her throat and reached for the remote. She hit the power and turned more towards Raoul, edging slightly out of his embrace to look at him properly.  
  
“So-” she prompted, “You mentioned that there was something big you wanted to tell me about?”  
  
Raoul nodded, “Yes Christine. I- um…” He struggled to continue, looking around the room as if for inspiration. Did he seem nervous?  
“Christine,” he said suddenly, taking her hand.  
  
“Yes?” she responded curiously.  
  
“You remember how I had to go to California a couple months ago?”  
  
Now she was cautious. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I remember.”  
  
Raoul cleared his throat, “well, the work I did over there didn’t go unnoticed. And. Well… I’ve been offered a job.”  
  
Christine felt her whole body go rigid as he said those words. A job. Raoul had been offered a job. In California.  
  
“What?” She cried, moving out of his embrace entirely to look at him properly. Surely it was a joke.  
  
“Christine?” Raoul said in concern. “Are you alright?”  
  
Christine shook her head and stood up, pacing and rubbing her head.  
  
“No Raoul. I’m really not. California? It’s so far away and I wouldn’t be able to see you.”  
  
“Actually,” he murmured, standing up and taking her hand gently. He was looking at her hopefully. “I was hoping you would come with me.”  
  
“Oh Raoul,” Christine groaned and slumped into an armchair. “I can’t.” she looked down at her hands so she couldn’t see the dejected look on his face. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. This is my home. This place is my life. I owe it too many memories to leave it.”  
  
She gave a shuddering sigh, breaking the sudden silence between them. “First my store and now this-” she muttered.  
  
“Wait. Are your closing your store?” Raoul gasped, taking her hand once more and meeting her gaze, “Christine, I’m so sorry. Had I known I would have-”  
  
“No Raoul.” She said over him, cutting off his next words. She squeezed his hands and gave him a weak smile despite the pain she was feeling. “You need to do this for yourself. I am so proud of you… but I can’t go with you to California. I can’t hold you back.”  
  
Raoul’s hands limply dropped from her grasp. His eyes stared at the floor, understanding, but miserable. He nodded and smiled weakly. “I understand. But what does this mean for us?” He murmured.  
  
Hating the defeated look in his eyes, Christine rose from her chair and pulled him into a hug.  
  
“You will find someone else.” She whispered into his embrace, tears escaping from her. “You will find someone as wonderful and as fantastic as you, who can go with you wherever you need them and make you happy.” She stepped back slightly from him. “I will not have you settling for anyone less than you deserve.” She told him sternly.  
  
“Oh Christine,” he gave a watery chuckle. “You’ve always looked out for me, ever since we were children.”  
  
Christine nodded and smiled at him, albeit sadly.  
  
“Keep in touch, yeah?”  
  
Raoul sighed and smiled at her. “Of course, Little Lotte.”  
  
-  
  
He had left a few hours later. Christine had waved him out the door with a final hug and a pleasant smile plastered to her face. The moment the door closed after him, a ringing silence descended. Raoul was gone. By the end of the week he would be on the other side of the country, with nothing but the promise of a phone call away. It hurt. Of course it did. But she couldn’t deny a lighter feeling on her shoulders than before. Oh, there was still a pressure on her, but now she did not have to constantly wonder about her relationship with Raoul on top of everything else, the weight somehow didn’t seem as crushing. Christine shook her head. Should she even be feeling this way? She had just ended a two year relationship after all.  
  
“Ugh.” She groaned in frustration, slumping once more onto the sofa. Why was everything so complex?  
  
She needed to vent to someone. She needed her angel. A large glass of wine first perhaps, and then her angel.


	16. Chapter 16

Christine felt miserable as she trudged through the snowy streets. She walked into the store with a sense of finality, savouring the familiar ringing of the bell on her arrival. It was now a few days until Christmas, and despite the carols in all the shops, the cheerful greetings and the traditional fairy lights blinking in the shop window, the festive cheer was all but lost on her. With Christmas so close and the opportunity of a bargain looming, the store was absolutely packed with people hoping to get a decent instrument for a reluctantly cheap price.  
  
She had watched it all from the counter in a haze, while making sure to display a cheerful personality to the customers. Many of them came up to her, some familiar and some not, to offer her their condolences.  
  
“What are you going to do now?” a young woman had asked as Christine wrapped up her new piccolo.  
  
“I don't know.” She replied with a small smile, “I'm going to take some time. I have a little money saved. I'm almost looking forward to it”  
  
A man came up to the counter to join in on the conversation, placing his purchase on the counter, “I used to come here every Saturday with my mother, when I was younger.” He smiled kindly at Christine, “your father used to help me learn violin, free of charge. I could never thank him enough for his kindness.”  
  
Christine was fighting back tears as the two of them left from the counter to make way for a young girl staggering under a selection of CD’s and music books, a man she presumed to be her father was following behind. She shook her head to clear her mind and helped the girl heave the stack onto the counter.  
  
“My goodness”, she smiled, glancing over the items, “You must be very dedicated to the piano.”  
  
The child nodded enthusiastically, her brown eyes glimmering happily, “Oh yes. Ever since I saw you play I wanted to learn. That was you on the piano wasn’t it?” she asked, barely able to rest her arms on the counter excitedly. “It was here. And it sounded so pretty. Was that you?”  
  
Christine nodded, and the girl gasped, suddenly tugging on the man’s jacket. “Papa, this was the lady with the magic voice. I am going to play just like her when I grow up.”  
  
Her father laughed and tousled his daughter’s hair, “And you are going to astound the world, my dear.”  
  
Christine’s smile froze on her face as little memories began to stir of her own father saying the same things to her.  
  
-  
  
Erik stood outside on the other side of the road, looking into the shop through the window. He watched as the crowds of people moved in and out of the store, their arms laden with their last minute gifts and purchases. Once or twice he saw someone leave in a rather emotional state. These people walked passed him, not sparing him a glance, after all, in this weather it was perfectly understandable for someone to have a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of their face. And no one could begrudge him a hat pulled low against the chilled air. Erik caught snatches of conversation as an older couple walked by, coming from the store.  
  
“-Terrible. It was around for decades. It was that man’s livelihood, you know. And he was so kind.”  
  
“Poor Girl. She put on such a brave face.”  
  
Wonderful. Just wonderful. Erik grumbled into his scarf as the conversation faded from earshot. What was he thinking? He couldn’t approach her. He couldn’t just walk into the shop and strike up a conversation. Not after everything he had put her through. He had no right. No doubt she would accuse him of gloating or tormenting her. No. This matter would have to be approached delicately. He bundled his coat closer as the wind blew, wondering all the while, how he could even speak to Christine Daae.  
  
As the latest customer left from the counter, Erik could see Christine clearly. There was no one being served by her now. Her smile had faded and her head had drooped. Even from his distance, he could recognise that lost, faraway look in her eyes. She was hurting, he could clearly see that.  
  
As he watched, a customer approached the counter. She perked up and the smile was suddenly back in place, strong and convincing, to everyone but him.  
  
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his voice carried away by the winter wind.  
  
-  
  
Christine was finally able to shut the shop door after the last customer had left and she flipped the sign. This was the part she had dreaded most. The Music Corner was practically stripped bare after the sales but now she had to remove any other existing possessions. There wasn’t much left to take. Meg had already removed the fairy lights from the window. All the little Knick knacks had been sold and then given away. All that was left was one final violin from her father, sitting alone behind the glass cabinet. She had ensured that the others had gone to good, dedicated musicians. Nothing less would do for her father’s work. But when she had seen the last remaining instrument, she had refused any other advances and locked the cabinet. Now, she unlocked it once more and gently picked up the violin as if it was made of the most delicate of glass. She turned it over in her hands and traced the engraved signature of her father, before settling it lovingly into its case.  
  
Christine stood in the centre of the empty room, closing her eyes and envisioning what should have been there. Not this shell of her livelihood, but the living and thriving workings she remembered from her childhood. She could picture the warm lights, could almost hear her father playing the violin as she twirled around between the shelves, laughing gaily and singing. She smiled at the memory. It had all been so much simpler then. She faintly heard the bell ringing once more, but did not turn to look at the new arrival. She wanted to hold onto the moment.  
  
Eventually, she slowly turned to look at Madame Giry, “It feels like I failed him, Madame.” She whispered thickly, rubbing her eyes like a child. “This was his life for so long and he entrusted it to me and I- I’ve failed him.” Madame Giry rushed forward and pulled her into a tight hug as Christine began to cry. She shushed her and ran her hand comfortingly through her dark hair.  
  
“Hush now, dear girl.” She murmured over Christine’s sobs, “You have done nothing of the sort. Your father would understand and he would not want you to struggle so.” She placed a hand on either side of Christine’s face, wiping her eyes with her thumbs. “Closing the store will not diminish your memory of him one bit, do you hear me? It may not seem like it, but there will still be music in your life.”  
  
Christine nodded and lightly pulled away from Madame Giry’s embrace. She wiped her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Madame.”  
  
Madame Giry nodded kindly. “I shall see you later, my dear. Take your time.” And she left the store.  
  
Christine stood there for a moment and ran a hand over the counter. She nodded to herself. It was time. With a heavy heart, she picked up the violin case and slowly walked towards the door, each step nailing in the sense of finality. She stopped at the handle and lifted the bell off its hook, placing it in her pocket. With a shuddering sigh, Christine opened the door and turned to look at her store one last time, soaking in everything.  
  
“Goodbye father.” She whispered and stepped through the doorway.  
  
And for the first time in 26 years, there was no bell ringing to bid her farewell.  
  
-  
  
ChorusGril: ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t cry today. But I also found out that I am terrible at keeping impossible promises, especially to myself. And why, oh why am I being so theatrical, I hear you wonder… well. My store is closing down. I own a store. Did I ever tell you that, Angel? Of course not. We agreed no specifics all those months ago, after all. I can’t help but wonder if that was a good idea. It was a lovely store, so full of life and beautiful music. You would have liked it, I’m certain.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Soon it’ll just be a memory, like my father. I’ve tried to act strong, and optimistic, and determined. But the truth is, I'm heartbroken. I feel as if part of me has died, and my father has died all over again.’  
  
‘ChorusGirl has logged off’


	17. Chapter 17

The theatre had been a flurry of activity all week in preparation for their first performance. Final costume fittings were underway, people were rehearsing in every available hallway backstage, and the excitement was mounting. Erik oversaw every detail of the practise from his box, sitting with Nadir who was humming along merrily as the chorus ran through a song.  
  
“Must you do that?” Erik sighed.  
  
Nadir stopped humming momentarily, “Stop what?”  
  
Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, “How am I meant to critique the performance if your insufferable droning is going on right next to my ear?”  
  
Nadir tutted, but mercifully remained quiet.  
  
Erik surveyed the scene as some dancers came on stage to receive instructions.  
  
“Have you put any more thought into your casting choices for Don Juan, Erik?”  
  
His masked friend sighed in frustration at this question. “I have already informed you and those two idiots that I had someone in mind. But it is not certain yet.”  
  
Nadir frowned. “Am I not allowed to even know who she is?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Any further comment from Erik was lost as he watched the stage below. His eyes were trained on the dancers. One shock of blonde hair stood out from the others and Erik’s keen gaze was drawn to her for a moment. She seemed familiar somehow. He reached over and tapped Nadir on the shoulder.  
  
“You oversaw casting and crew for these dancers, who is that one there?” he gestured towards the girl in question. “I do not remember seeing her here before.”  
  
Nadir followed to look where he was pointing and quickly consulted some notes in front of him. “That is Meg Giry. She was with that dancing group we contracted.”  
  
Giry…Giry. Why did that sound familiar?  
  
It suddenly came to him. She worked in the music store alongside Christine Daae. Meg Giry. The girl who seemed very keen to speak her mind about the theatre way back when he first visited their store. He allowed himself a grim smile. It was a rather odd twist to find her here under his employment.  
  
He excused himself from Nadirs presence, “Now, you may continue that wretched noise,” he had muttered, and proceeded to the wing backstage where he had last seen Meg standing. As usual, the crew kept a respectful, and dare he say, fearful, distance from him as he passed by, and hushed slightly. He hid his grimace and scanned the area, his eyes finally landing on where she was standing, talking, with her back to him. As he approached, the girls near her fell quiet and fixed him with nervous looks. Confused at the distraction, Meg turned and visibly cringed as she looked up at his tall figure.  
  
“Meg Giry,” he said, in a way of greeting, ignoring her obvious disdain. He gestured for the other girls to leave and they scurried away almost too happily. Meg straightened up and looked him directly in the eye. Any uncertainty she had shown around his mask in the shop that day was gone. There was only fierce dislike and he knew it had nothing to do with his appearance.  
  
“Yes, Mr Devereux? How may I help?” her tone was quite biting and her eyes flashed with dislike. He hadn’t expected anything less.  
  
Erik mockingly raised his hands at her little display. “Now, now, Miss Giry. There is no need to be so hostile. I was merely coming to welcome you to my theatre.”  
  
Meg bristled slightly “No need? Of course you would not see it that way. After all, what is a meaningless store to you? I expect you have already forgotten about it. What does the livelihood of ordinary folk matter? Huh? Now that you’ve won.”  
  
Erik stood, allowing for her verbal assault to continue for a few moments more. Had it been anyone else speaking to him like this he would have removed them from his employ without hesitation. But this was deserved and she needed to vent this pent up aggression if he was to talk to her properly.  
  
“How is she?” he interrupted her rant suddenly, not wanting to wait a moment longer. He had seen her last message and he could clearly remember the jolt of panic when she had immediately logged off afterwards. He needed to know.  
  
“She-uh- what?” Meg’s next sentence died on her lips in her confusion.  
  
“How is she coping with it all? Christine, I mean.” he repeated, looking down at his hands, while trying to sound casual. “I understand it was a big loss to her. I want to know if she is alright.”  
  
“She’s… um…” Shaking her head, her expression rapidly switched from bemused to suspicious and she glared up at Erik. “Is this some kind of gloating method of yours?”  
  
“No.” he snapped. “No,” he repeated in a gentler tone. “I just need to know.”  
  
Meg’s gaze did not falter. “What if I told you she was depressed and miserable-“  
  
“Is she?” he asked abruptly without thinking. Realising his mistake, Erik tried to adjust his expression and to not let his worry seep through. Meg’s eyes softened slightly around the edges, telling him he was not entirely successful.  
  
“She’s not feeling fantastic, I’ll give you that. But she is coping, yes.”  
  
Erik nodded in thanks, ignoring the strange look she was giving him. He cleared his throat.  
  
“Thank you Miss Giry.” He said, turning from the girl, “You may return to your rehearsal.”  
  
-  
  
Christine lounged on the couch, idly flipping through the book. Her eyes scanned the words written on each page over and over, unable to take anything in. It was a vicious cycle. Her mind would drift to thoughts of the store, making her feel depressed and then she would catch herself and force her mind back onto re-reading that same paragraph, with no success.  
  
“Ugh, it’s no use.” She muttered to herself, tossing the novel to one side. “I have to do something.”  
  
Christine stood up with determination and scanned the room for something, anything that could hold her attention for even a few minutes. It was unbelievable. It had been three weeks since the store had closed. It was the beginning of a new year for goodness sake. She should be out there, living up to her resolutions. ‘New year, new beginning, new me’, she had told herself in a flawed attempt to motivate some optimism.  
  
But until the motivation struck her, it was sitting in a quiet apartment and plodding miserably through some unappealing book. The only upside to this dull day was that Meg would arrive after work for dinner. Maybe even a movie. Just like old times. Christine glanced at the clock. She had little over an hour before then. Good. Any longer and she would have screamed. She headed towards the kitchen. At least now she could occupy herself with cooking.  
  
-  
  
“So how is it? Working under the evil overlord?” Christine joked, as they sat on the sofa with an open bottle between them and The Secret Garden playing in the background.  
  
“I’m as bitter as hell about it, but the bastard actually knows what he’s doing.” Meg said, after a sip from her glass. “He’s a fair judge of the performance, if a little strict. But the production is coming along great. Everyone seems to find him intimidating though.”  
  
“Because of the mask?”  
  
“That. And he has this really annoying habit of skulking in shadowy corners. He doesn’t make much of a sound when he walks around and he is always dressed in black. There are rumours of him being a vampire, you know.”  
  
Meg grinned slightly mischievously.  
  
“He came up to me a couple of weeks ago. I gave him a particularly heated lecture.”  
  
Christine gasped, “Oh meg you didn’t-”  
  
“Oh but I did and he deserved every word he got” she said with finality.  
  
Her friend groaned, “But he is your boss now. This is a job you’ve always wanted and if putting up with Erik Devereux is necessary to keep it you-” Christine said pointedly at her friend, “-are going to do everything to ensure that. Clear?”  
  
Meg absently took another sip from her glass, pondering what to say next.  
  
“He’s asked about you a couple of times, actually.”  
  
Christine sprung up from her slumped position and fixed her friend with a wide eyed gaze. “What?” She had not expected that at all. “Why would he do that?” her eyes squinted in a glare at her next thought. “Was he just trying to pry and see how much I’m suffering or something?” oh, she could picture it now. His smug sneer as he celebrated his cold victory.  
  
“No…” Meg shocked her out of her thoughts. She swirled her glass idly in her hands with a small confused look on her face. “He seemed genuinely concerned actually.” She said in wonder.  
  
Now, Christine fell silent. Her mouth was opening and closing as her mind processed this. He was concerned for her? After everything they had been through. He was concerned for her.  
  
“What…um” she stumbled with her words, “What did he ask about?”  
  
Meg slowly raised her eyes from her glass. “He wanted to know if you were alright. He tried not to show it but he actually seemed a bit worried.”  
  
They fell into a silence. Christine’s mind was racing. She could not figure Erik Devereux out. Why on earth would he care?  
  
-  
  
Erik entered the apartment building after work that night as normal. He got into the elevator and pointedly ignored the other people that stepped in with him as he always did. The others around him were chatting comfortably about their day. Having shared the building for several years, they were well aware of Erik’s somewhat antisocial mannerisms, and left him to himself. He watched as they talked and laughed, while pressed into the corner away from them. In that confined space, he couldn’t help but listen as they each proudly spoke about their friends and families. One man even admitted that he was proposing to his girlfriend that very weekend.  
  
“I love her. I don’t know what’s been stopping me.” He smiled and passed around a picture of a girl he carried in his wallet. When the photo got to Erik he held it carefully in one gloved hand and stared at the smiling couple for several seconds. He could feel his heart clench and unclench as he looked over their loving glances, the hands being casually held and the glow of happiness around them. He nodded and handed back the photo, hating the tremor in his hand.  
  
The elevators occupants left, one by one, agonisingly slowly to Erik’s impatient mind. He finally stepped gratefully onto his own floor at the top of the building, glad to be out of the enclosed space. He fumbled with his keys and shouldered the apartment door open. He walked briskly through the apartment and onto the balcony, leaning heavily on the rail and letting loose a shuddering sigh.  
  
What was left for him? He had a successful business, a good home, his music… and yet…  
  
What was he missing?  
  
He ran a hand through his ‘hair’ and thought back to all of the people surrounding him in the elevator, all speaking of their loved ones. They all had something to live _for _. Someone. They had friends, family… love. And for all of his wealth and fortune, Erik had emerged from the elevator, to his penthouse apartment and somehow felt that he was the unfortunate man. He had none of that. It was unfair.__  
  
He absently traced his mask as his mind pondered this. This damned thing. This infection that poisoned any chance of love in his life. He had been judged for this his whole existence. Even now, people that he had known for years shot him curious, judgemental glances and had whispered as he had left rooms, hoping that he couldn’t hear, yet ignorant that he was all too aware.  
  
Throughout his life there had only been a handful of people who had not reacted to his mask, who had let his personality be the first factor that mattered rather than his appearance. Unwillingly, an image of Christine flashed into his mind. His _ChorusGirl _. His dear friend for the past long year. Yes. She had been one. She had not spared it a second glance in their first meeting. Erik sighed and eased his mask off his face, exposing it to the cool night air. Accepting his mask was one thing. His face was another entirely. She may have already accepted his mask but she could never accept his monstrous appearance.__  
  
But, he could picture her now, smiling as she sang at her piano with her angelic voice and he couldn’t help closing his eyes and letting the memory of that unearthly sound wash over him. Revelling in the warm feeling despite the cold night air, he felt a small smile pull at his lips and he opened his eyes to look up at the stars. Her voice was pure and glorious. It was the voice that could make his music take flight as he had always dreamed.  
  
He suddenly knew what he wanted to do.


	18. Chapter 18

Oh this was fantastic. The cherry on top of the particularly loathsome cake. A cold. Christine Daae now had a cold. If she had any plans at all to go out, they were now completely shot. Instead, for the third day in a row, Christine lazily cracked open an eye that late morning and tried to convince herself to get up. Her stomach growled even as she closed her eyes in defeat and she groaned into her pillow. Now she actually had an excuse. She reluctantly peeled back the covers and stood up, clutching her head and rubbing away the dull throb brought from the movement. Shuffling into the kitchen in her pyjamas, Christine made herself a honey and lemon drink her father would always make when she was sick, sniffling all the while.  
  
She sat on the counter and sipped her drink, letting the warmth from the mug seep into her hands. She soon felt the drink clear her fogged mind. It seemed it would be another day indoors for her, no afternoon strolls to the market, no visits to Meg or Madame Giry, just her own company once more. Christine glanced past the kitchen and into the lounge room, where a stack of unfinished musicals sat on the coffee table, ready and waiting to regale her. Perhaps another day in wasn’t such a loss.  
  
After fixing herself a bowl of fruit salad, Christine bundled herself in last night’s blankets and prepared for a quarantined afternoon with ‘Annie’. She began croaking through the first song and soon gave up, not wanting to torture her throat any more than necessary. Ugh. She hated colds.  
  
The orphans had just finished claiming that it was a hard knock life when the front door’s buzzer sounded through the apartment. Christine groaned and eased off the couch, still wrapped in her cocoon, and shuffled to the intercom, where the buzzer was ringing impatiently.  
  
“Alright, alright.” She muttered grouchily, and pressed the button.  
  
“Yes, who is it?” she said, fighting to keep the nasally sound out of her voice. There was a beat of silence before a horribly familiar, deep voice responded through the speaker.  
  
“It’s Erik Devereux.”  
  
Christine’s shock gave way into a groan (she made sure her finger was off the button) and she slumped immaturely against the wall.  
  
“Ugh. What are you doing here?”  
  
“May I come up… please?”  
  
Christine reeled in bemusement. Come up? Into her home? Was he mad? She furiously pressed onto the button once more.  
  
“No. I don’t think that would be wise.” She allowed for the nasally voice to become clear and she sniffled for good measure. “I have a terrible co- c- a terr-” she broke off into an enormous sneeze, right into the speaker. Good. He would surely get the picture.  
  
“Did you hear that?” she asked through her tissue.  
  
Christine thought she heard a trace of amusement in his voice “yes, I certainly did.”  
  
“So you must understand why I can’t let you up then. I’m sneezing every five minutes, I’m not really awake, I have um…” she glanced around as she tried to find inspiration, “I have a temperature, and I’m probably contagious. So I would appreciate it if you would just go away.”  
  
She jumped as the door next to her was given a loud knock. She stepped back from the com and shuffled away from the door, her heart pounding angrily. Did he just… how?  
  
“Christine?” Erik called.  
  
Christine was about to open the door for a second, if only to have the pleasure of slamming it in his face, when she stopped herself and squeaked in embarrassment. She was still in her pyjamas, for goodness sake. He couldn’t see her like this.  
  
“Just a second” she called out and shuffled to her room, tossing off the blankets and grabbing the first thing from her wardrobe to cover herself. She quickly wrapped her overcoat around her and yanked the belt around it all. It covered most of her at least, it would have to do. She yanked the door open to reveal Erik, standing on her doorstep with a bunch of… flowers. Of all things, that was the last thing she had expected and she completely forgot to slam the door in his smug masked face. She glanced at him up and down. He was dressed in his usual black attire with the crisp white shirt. But this time, instead of that regal, greater-than-thou aura she was so used to, he seemed nervous. He was fidgeting slightly and his amber eyes were finding difficulty on staying fixed on one point.  
  
Refusing to feel any sympathy, Christine drew herself up to her full height, with her head held high, as if she was dressed in the finest dresses of Chanel, and not the sniffling, overcoat, pyjama, combination she was currently sporting.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
Erik glanced at her, uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. “I was informed that you were sick and I was concerned.”  
  
Christine faltered slightly, “oh” was all she could say before a coughing fit came over her.  
  
Erik waited patiently for her to stop and stepped forward carefully, “and I wanted to st-” he stopped and frowned, leaning in as if listening to something.  
  
“What?” Christine asked, turning around to look back into her apartment to see what was bothering him.  
  
“Is there someone else here?” he asked, now stepping fully into the apartment, much to Christine’s silent annoyance.  
  
“No." She said, confused. "oh wait. It’s just a group of disgruntled orphans.”  
  
Erik paused for a moment at this comment as he closed the door behind him, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of what she said. She watched as he looked past to the tv and eventually came to a realisation. “Oh, I see. You’re watching Annie”  
  
“Yes I am. Well done you.” She imagined his crooked eyebrow at her statement as he stepped further into her apartment. She felt a pang of irritation and placed her hands defiantly on her hips.  
  
“Hey.” She called, “You put me out of business, Devereux.”  
  
She saw Erik’s form tense at her words and she hoped he was feeling some sense of guilt.  
  
“It would appear that I did.” He mumbled uncertainly.  
  
“Did you come to gloat?” Christine rasped, feeling her anger rising.  
  
“No”  
  
“To offer me a position at your theatre?”  
  
Erik was silent for a moment as he considered what to say, but it was enough. Christine couldn’t believe it.  
  
“Oh my god, that is low.” She hissed. “Well for your information I have plans already.”  
  
Erik finally spoke up, Christine expected him to snap back or to seem even a little angry. But Erik sounded calm, even a little apologetic. “I have not come about anything like that.” He murmured. “I heard you were sick and I wanted to visit. That is all.”  
  
Christine sighed. “And who told you that I was?”  
  
“Your friend.” Oh goodness, she was going to kill Meg.  
  
“But after your display by the door,” Erik continued, “I’m sure the rest of the street knows it too. It was rather impressive.” He looked up and allowed a small smile to play on his lips. At the cold stare he received in return, it faltered slightly, he shuffled and gestured half-heartedly with the flowers in his hands.  
  
“I brought you flowers,” he muttered reluctantly, staring at the offered bunch in his hands.  
  
Christine was shocked. She had seen them but never even considered they were for her. How perfect. He had destroyed her business and made her miserable, and the one time she had him there to give him a piece of her mind he was offering her flowers, in what was undeniably, a really sweet gesture to make her feel better.  
  
“Oh dammit.” She groaned and sighed in defeat. “Thank you,” she said reluctantly.  
  
Erik nodded and fidgeted with the flowers for a moment, as an awkward silence hung between them. “You should probably sit down.” He eventually said, “Do you have a vase?”  
  
“In the cupboard next to the fridge.” Christine sniffled, grudgingly shuffling to sit at the dining room table as Erik rummaged through the kitchen behind her. She plucked out an extra few tissues and blew her nose, trying to be as discreet as possible.  
Erik emerged a few minutes later with the flowers arranged beautifully in the vase and a cup of steaming tea that he placed in front of Christine. She paused, stumped by this kind gesture before nodding gratefully up at him as he settled the arrangement in the middle of the table. This was wrong. She should be ranting and raving at him as much as her woebegone throat would allow. Instead she was having tea with him. What was wrong with her?  
  
“Your friend is doing rather well in our newest production I must say.”  
  
Christine perked up slightly at the mention of Meg. “Oh good. She’s been wanting to do work like this her whole life.” She gave a grim smile into her teacup. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”  
  
Erik sat down slowly and shook his head. “No. I deserve no gratitude from either of you.”  
  
Christine lowered her mug to regard his expression. He looked guilty almost. She sighed and set her cup down.  
  
“Look, about the last time we met, I have to apologise for being so…”  
  
“Charming.” He supplied.  
  
Christine snorted without meaning to. “I was absolutely not. I was horrible.”  
  
“As was I.” he replied easily.  
  
“But I have no excuse.” She retorted.  
  
“Ah. I see.” Erik rested his elbows onto the table in front of him, with what looked like a playful glint in his eyes, “Whereas I am a horrible person, and therefore must be horrible in everything I do.”  
  
Christine clamped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to say things like that.”  
  
Erik nodded and leaned back, undisturbed. “You have every right to hate me.”  
  
Christine lowered her hand and studied the grains of wood on the table. “I don’t hate you.” She whispered. She wished she could. He deserved it. But right now, she couldn’t. She glanced up to meet Erik’s eyes. They had softened and looked almost gentle.  
  
“But could you ever forgive me?”  
  
Christine fell silent.  
  
Could she? She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She murmured, she stood from the table, hitting the off button for the tv on the remote. “My heads feeling slightly fuzzy. I need to go back to bed.” She claimed. Really, she needed time to think. She moved to walk past Erik and stopped.  
  
“Why did you stop by again?”  
  
Erik raised his head from his hands to look at her. “I suppose I was hoping for the impossible. I was hoping that we would be able to become friends.” He whispered.  
  
“Oh…” was all she said in response.  
  
“Could I ask you something?” he waited for her to nod. “What happened with that man you were meeting at the café?”  
Christine grimaced slightly as she remembered that night when was meant to meet her angel.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
She moved towards her bed. Erik soon entered, he was carrying her mug and set it on the bedside cabinet next to her.  
  
“Nothing at all?” he said in wonder, “But you seemed so sure of him.”  
  
Christine felt her defences rising, “I am,” she said shortly.  
  
Erik fixed her with a confused look, “Then why are you not being cared for by him right now? Why have you not run off with him?”  
  
Christine took in a steadying breath, “because I haven’t actually met him.” She groaned and collapsed back into the pillows, hoping the bed would swallow her up. “I can’t believe I’m telling you but- we met online.”  
  
Erik nodded in understanding. “You’ve got mail.”  
  
“Yes.” She said, sitting up, “exactly.”  
  
Handing her the cup of tea, Erik sat down on the edge of the bed. “Perhaps you should try meet him again.”  
  
Christine’s response was drowned by another, particularly violent, coughing fit. She was doubled over, coughing roughly into a tissue when she felt Erik gently rub her back to ease her through it, making slow, even, clockwise motions. The gesture was unexpectedly tender and despite herself, Christine thought it felt… nice. After it had calmed down, his hand remained there for a moment. She thought she felt his thumb caress her shoulder, but then it was gone. As if nothing had happened, Erik instructed her to lie down once more and he gently pulled the covers up around her.  
  
“I’ll see myself out. I hope you are well soon. For all its delights in winter, New York is even lovelier in the spring. Good day… Christine.”  
  
She heard the door shut, leaving her in silence. She slowly raised her hand to run it through her hair. What just happened?


	19. Chapter 19

Finally. After another week of frustrating sneezes and tea, Christine was up and about. She had told her angel that she was feeling better that morning and he seemed relieved. He had been asking her questions about her condition the whole time to see if she was alright, making sure she was drinking enough water, demanding that she eat some oranges, and bluntly denying her ideas of going out for the day. Christine found it an endearing change from his more stoic personality. But now, she was free to live the day as she pleased.  
  
To celebrate she tucked a book into her bag and left the apartment to spend that long overdue energy. She was glad that she thought to bring a scarf, which she wrapped around her neck against the brisk spring air. Christine took deep gulps of fresh air as she walked, thrilled to be able to do that again, and made her way to a small café by some gardens. The smell of fresh coffee and croissants greeted her as she opened its doors and she paused for a moment to take it in, determined to make full use of her returned senses. Ordering herself a hot chocolate and a Danish square, she sat by the seat in front of the view and opened her book to read of Elizabeth’s arrival at Pemberley.  
  
Her order had just arrived when she heard a small tapping from the window in front of her. She looked up from her book to see Erik giving her a small wave from the other side of the glass. Her mouth dropped open slightly in shock at the sight of him standing there. He held up a finger and walked around to the café door. Christine suddenly felt nervous for some reason, she shifted in her seat to follow his movements.  
  
Erik entered and stopped in front of her, his hands resting politely behind his back.  
  
“Miss Daae, It’s good to see you up once more.”  
  
Christine felt herself blush slightly as she remembered their last meeting, “Yes. I’ve had my fair share of tea and rest. I’m relieved to be out again.”  
  
Erik nodded, and looked around to the counter for a moment. “I was going to have some coffee. May I join you?”  
  
She felt herself nodding without realising and he had left for the counter before she could say anything more. As soon as his back was turned Christine whirled around back to her table and flipped her book over. He did not need to know she was reading that again.  
  
“So,” he began, settling comfortably on the seat opposite her with his order in hand, “What brings you out on this fine day?” he brought the cup to his mouth and Christine heard a faint ‘snick’ as the lip of his mask scraped the top covering the drink.  
  
“I’ve been cooped up for two weeks in my apartment being sick and miserable.” Christine muttered “I think I’ve earned some time out, don’t you?”  
  
“Oh, indeed.” His fingers drummed idly on the table in a steady rhythm. “I confess I was hesitant to approach. I was worried for a moment that I was interrupting another potential meet up between you and your mysterious friend.”  
  
Christine’s gaze drifted down to look at the table, “No, you are not.” Another embarrassed flush crept up her face. She still couldn’t believe she had told him any of that. Erik continued, undisturbed.  
  
“Perhaps you should meet him again,” he suggested.  
  
Christine waved her hand as she thought of how to respond. “I don’t want to push it” was the excuse she finally settled on.  
  
He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “And why not?”  
  
She sighed, slightly irritated at his persistence. “We’ve tried, but it’s never worked out.” She picked at her Danish square, “he’s always had some excuse. Maybe he just doesn’t want to actually meet me.”  
  
Erik straightened up in his seat, frowning. “You can’t know that for sure,” he insisted. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to approach the subject again. I gather that he was apologetic after your last plans fell through?”  
  
“Yes” Christine said after a pause, wondering where he was going with this information.  
  
“Then perhaps he is doing the courteous thing and allowing for you to decide when it is suitable to try again.” He finished off the sentence with a sip of his drink.  
  
Christine sat in thought and unconsciously swirled her cup in her hand as she pondered over what he had said. She hated to admit it, but maybe he was right. It wouldn’t hurt to at least ask him once more. She looked up at Erik who was surveying her with interest and nodded.  
  
“I might just do that.”  
  
He gave a small smile. “Excellent.”  
  
His eyes glanced over to Christine’s elbow and he reached forward, turning her book over. He gave a knowing smile at her suddenly panicked look.  
  
“Ah. The delightful, Miss Austen, once again present at our little café meeting. Quite the sense of Déjà vu, no?”  
  
“Oh don’t.” Christine almost snapped. “I’d rather forget anything to do with that night.” She ignored his understanding gaze. “Anyway, I thought you hated Pride and Prejudice.”  
  
Erik raised a hand to sit on his chest in mock defence. “I never said anything of the sort. In fact, I’m rather fond of it.”  
  
Her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”  
  
“Indeed. Miss Elizabeth is quite the compelling character. Does my interest surprise you?”  
  
Christine shook her head and shrugged. “It’s just that, it’s a romance.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Nothing. I just pegged you as more of a dark thriller- mystery kind of guy.”  
  
He considered this for a moment, nodding slightly. “Well you’re not wrong. I do enjoy a good mystery. After all-” his hand rose and rested lightly on his mask, drawing Christine’s attention to it. “- not everything is as it initially appears.” His voice faded off slightly at the end.  
  
Christine fought the urge to ask about his mask. When she first met him, she had thought it was just an image of a mysterious persona he was portraying. Looking at him now, and seeing the almost sad hint in his eyes, she could only believe that there was a more important reason. She was only just able to hold herself back.  
  
Erik shook his head slightly as if to clear his mind and looked at her, smiling slightly and continuing as if nothing had happened, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Yes, mystery is always intriguing, but I love books of all sorts.”  
  
The settled in a silence. It felt almost comfortable between them for that moment, only tinged with awkwardness as they both pondered on what to say next.  
  
“How is your theatre going?” Christine asked from the top of her head, immediately fighting back a wince as she realised what she had asked.  
  
Erik gave her an amused look over the rim of his cup. “I always hold politeness in a high regard, Miss Daae, and I thank you for it, but I sense that you actually could not care less about my theatre.”  
  
She offered an apologetic smile. “That’s not entirely true. I care about what Meg does.”  
  
“And judging by- what were they? Ah yes- the group of disgruntled orphans serenading you when I visited, I would guess that you share an interest in musical theatre.”  
  
She felt herself smiling despite herself. What was this now? Banter? When had they come to this?  
  
“Well, when you grow up around music as I have, you’re bound to start liking it.” She looked down with a warm, but sad, smile.  
  
“My father loved music. He taught me everything I know about it so I have a sort of fondness for it too.”  
  
“Did he teach you to sing?” he asked after a considerate pause as if he was weighing his next words carefully.  
  
Christine nodded gently as memories of her father floated into her mind. “…yes. He did.’  
  
“He did a remarkable job.”  
  
Christine’s head shot up in shocked suspicion. “What makes you think that?” she asked quickly.  
  
Erik raised his head to look her in the eye, his voice was quiet as he responded. “I heard you. The first day we met.”  
  
Christine’s suspicion melted. Of course. She was giving a small concert in the shop that day. Of course he heard her. Erik closed his eyes, as if remembering something and Christine felt herself leaning forward to catch his next words.  
  
“You had the voice of an angel.” He whispered, almost to himself. She quickly leant back and busied herself with her cup, turning it this way and that and attempting to ignore yet another warm rush to her cheeks. She took off her scarf, silently blaming it for her blushing.  
  
Erik suddenly sat up straight and shook his head, taking another sip of his coffee. He glanced at his watch and nodded to himself. He set his now empty cup aside.  
  
“I apologise, Miss Daae. I must be going.”  
  
Christine was surprised to find herself a little bit disappointed at this. She watched as Erik stood from the table and nodded to her.  
  
“I wish you all the best with your friend. Perhaps we will bump into each other again.”  
  
-  
  
Erik went on his computer that night and immediately checked his mail. There was a notification from _ChorusGirl _. He smiled. So she had taken his advice after all.__  
  
_ChorusGirl: ‘I have been thinking about this for a while. I would like to give this another shot. So, Angel. Do you want to meet?’ ___  
  
Erik leant back. He truly did want to meet her properly this time. He wanted to do this right. But now was not the right time. To Christine, he was still her business rival that had put her out of business. Finding out that he was also her angel would be a mistake. He thought about their meeting today. It wasn’t horrible. It was even pleasant. He was interested to see what happened next. She did not seem repulsed when she saw him today, amazingly enough. In fact, he would dare to assume that she actually seemed to almost enjoy their conversation. He had even managed to make her laugh… Perhaps in time…  
  
He let the thought go unfinished, making up his mind. He shooed a disgruntled Ayesha away from the keyboard and began typing his response.  
  
_AngelofMusic: ‘We should meet and we will. Thank you for giving me another chance.’_  
  
_AngelofMusic: ‘But at this moment I am in the middle of something. A project that requires-’_ he paused to think of the word. _‘-fine-tuning.’_  
  
He nodded to himself, a plan already formulating in his mind.  
Yes soon. But she needed more time.  
Even if she didn’t realise it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly Gosh, sorry I'm late. I'm not overly thrilled with this chapter but we'll see how this goes. Happy reading.

Christine stood before the doors of the theatre a week later. She’d been standing there for several minutes trying to trick herself into entering somehow. If it weren’t for Meg’s suggestion to watch her rehearse before they went out, she would not be within a million miles of this street again. She had carefully averted her gaze while walking past what used to be her shop. She was determined to keep pretending that it was still there, warm and welcoming as it had always been. Now, Christine looked at the double doors before her. Through the glass she could see into the red carpeted interior, while hints of music whispered through the cracks. She groaned and finally managed to push the doors open, amplifying the sounds of the ongoing rehearsal.  
Stepping through the doorway, Christine felt herself drinking in the sights around her. There was a grand staircase that swept up from the middle of the room before branching off to lead to the adjoined boxes, there was blooming red upholstery draped over the windows that let in a warm light. Christine couldn’t help her mouth dropping open as her eyes trailed up the tall walls to gape at a large chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. It all looked so regal and she bitterly thought that it was all looking quite impressive. She felt so small standing in the vast room.  
  
Christine slowly came back to her other surroundings. The music from where she assumed the stage area was had stopped. Perhaps rehearsals were paused for the moment. But it was strange. She could still hear a faint sound. It was as if it was coming from a far off room. Her ears strained to hear snatches of haunting piano music and she felt her feet inadvertently follow the direction of the melody. She crossed the floor and crept down a long, scarcely lit hallway. Ignoring her thoughts telling her it was a bad idea, Christine instead tilted her head this way and that, trying to hear it better. As she moved past several doors she could finally hear the music getting louder and washing over her until she found herself at the foot of some stairs leading down. Each note seemed to resonate in her mind and echo in her heart and she felt an unquestionable desire to find out who was playing this glorious composition. She took a steadying breath and slowly descended the flight of stairs. She finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. Christine cautiously crept forward and leaned against the wood, pressing her ear against it to catch every sound.  
  
All too suddenly the music abruptly stopped and she barely had a moment to register this before the door was wrenched open.  
  
“JESUS CHRIST!” she jumped back, clutching her heart to see Erik barely containing a shocked, yet amused, smirk behind his mask.  
  
“I would prefer just Erik if it’s all the same to you.” He remarked.  
  
Christine’s hand fell limp at her side as she glared at him. Erik appeared unfazed and moved to hold his hands behind his back, surveying her.  
  
“Now. What could possibly convince you to step into this theatre, Miss Daae? This is indeed an unparalleled delight.”  
  
Christine squared her shoulders in a confident manner and pushed her hair back, keen to forget her most recent reaction.  
“I came to see Meg rehearse.” She said firmly.  
  
“Ahh.” Erik nodded in understanding. “Well I regret to inform you that this is not where the rehearsals are being held.” Christine felt her face flush, ashamed at being caught snooping around his theatre. Erik glanced at his watch and continued.  
  
“As for Miss Giry, I’m afraid her part has just finished, and I cannot allow just anyone backstage while rehearsals are in progress.”  
  
Christine frowned and nodded. That seemed fair. “Well then will it be much longer?” she took a step back as she prepared to leave. “I’m happy to just sit in the audience and watch for the moment.”  
  
Erik tapped his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed her. “May I ask what led you to my office, Miss Daae?”  
  
That melody crept into her mind again and Christine stopped, fighting the urge to close her eyes so she could hold onto it.  
“I heard music coming from here.” She muttered. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been prying.”  
  
Erik’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of the music. He stepped back from the door and gestured for her to enter. Taken aback, she hesitantly stepped through into his large office. She was guided by Erik past several stacks of papers and manuscripts to sit on a black leather sofa.  
  
“There is no need to apologise, Miss Daae.” He began pouring tea. “The music you heard was a piece from my newest opera, ‘Don Juan Triumphant’.” He gestured to the piano in the centre of the room and the sheet music resting on it. “I have been working on it for many years.”  
  
Christine leant back against the couch and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You wrote that?”  
  
Erik nodded and handed Christine her cup before sitting at the piano. His hands rested carefully on the keys for a moment before beginning to move delicately over them, playing that same melody from before. The notes seemed to rise up from the instrument and weave themselves through the air as the music swirled. Christine lowered her cup and tilted her head back, eyes closed as she felt her mind wonder, unaware that she was humming. Erik savoured the sound of her voice as it hinted at the possibility of what his music and her voice could be when combined.  
  
All too soon, the last note faded into the air several minutes later and silence fell between them once more.  
  
“All it needs now is a voice to make it truly soar.” He whispered.  
  
Erik sat up straight and looked around at Christine who still had her eyes closed. He took a deep breath to steady his resolve.  
  
“This may seem sudden, Miss Daae, but-” he paused as he collected himself, “I would like to make an offer. If I may.”  
  
“Oh?” she leaned back, curiosity plain on her face.  
  
“Would you allow me to teach you?”  
  
“Teach me?” her head tilted in confusion, not quite understanding. “Teach me what?”  
  
“Singing.” There was a hint of determination in his voice. “Violin too if you wish, but primarily singing.”  
  
Christine sat in shocked silence, unable to respond. Erik began fidgeting with the keys in front of him under her quiet, unresponsive gaze. In the back of her mind, Christine noted how extraordinary it was to see his calm and eloquent demeanour disappear. But had she heard right? Teach her singing? After everything they had been through as rivals... why would he want to teach her?  
  
She cleared her throat slightly. “You want to teach me?”  
  
“I do”  
  
“Why? To what end?” She scowled set her cup back firmly on the table. “I will not work for you, Mr Devereux. I thought I made that quite clear.”  
  
Erik grumbled and pinched his nose in irritation, “I never suggested anything of the sort.” He raised his hands in surrender. “At this moment I simply want to teach you.”  
  
Christine squinted at him uncertainly. “Of all people, why me?”  
  
Erik looked resigned and waved his hand impatiently. “I do not undertake pupils often, Miss Daae, nor do I extend the opportunity on a whim. I heard your voice,” His tone softened, “It was exquisite, a fine instrument.” He looked up and fixed her with an open stare, willing her to see he was not lying and she shifted under his blunt gaze. “But it needs work. Shaping. Under my tutelage your voice would soar to the greatest heights of Opera.”  
  
At his words, Christine couldn’t help but imagine herself on a stage with hundreds of people before her, all enraptured by her voice. Her? An opera singer? She felt a bubble of excitement at the possibility.  
  
But no, it was wrong. She could not accept help from him. It would be disgraceful. She would not want to owe him anything more.  
  
And yet…  
  
Her father had always wanted her to sing. His dream had become hers too. She could not count all the times she had imagined about it as a little girl. And here was Erik, in front of her, offering her the stepping stone to that dream. She shook her head to focus her mind and looked at him with clear eyes. He seemed genuine and he looked almost anxious behind his mask as he waited for her response.  
  
Perhaps…  
  
“Even just for a trial run.” He continued. “I teach you for a month- just a month- and you decide if you want to continue.”  
  
“And if I don’t?”  
  
He closed his eyes as if it physically pained him. “Then you will not hear about it any longer. You have my word.”  
  
Christine surveyed the man in front of her, and more importantly, his offer.  
  
“I don’t expect you to answer straight away.” He babbled. “But I would like you to consider-”  
  
“Alright” she interrupted.  
  
“The-uh- what?” For once, it was Christine’s turn to see him stumped. He blinked several times in confusion before a slow smile crept up his masked face. His amber eyes were shining with unbridled enthusiasm.  
  
“Oh, Christine. Thank you.”  
  
She felt herself smile in return and hid it behind her teacup.  
  
Erik sat up, retaining a more professional demeanor. “If you would come back tomorrow, we shall begin.”  
  
-  
  
“You’re taking lessons from HIM?” Meg sat back, her mouth wide open in shock. “But, Christine, he’s…”  
  
“I know, I know.” Christine groaned “He’s ‘the enemy’. But even you said he’s really good with what he does.”  
  
“He is. But he’s really intense when it comes to music. I can’t imagine having a one on one with him.” Meg paused. “But are you sure this is a good idea?”  
  
Christine shook her head. “That’s why I only agreed with a trial run. The moment it looks like it’s not working I am out of there.”  
  
Meg grinned. “Well, you have to give me all the details after the lesson. I want to hear how badly this goes.”  
  
“Thanks for the support” her friend replied drily.  
  
There was a moment of silence in the apartment before Christine spoke up quietly.  
  
“I don’t know why, Meg, but I feel like I need to give him a chance. In the times I’ve met him recently he’s been… tolerable… even nice- don’t look at me like that- I hate saying it."  
  
“You think he’s redeemable somehow?”  
  
Christine frowned. “I don’t know.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blimey. This has been a long time coming. My deepest apologies to everyone who waited for another chapter. The next one is nearly done and should be up soon (HA! Now that I've said that I'm gonna have to commit to that deadline)
> 
> Happy reading

Erik opened the door to his office after lunch the next day to reveal a hesitant Christine waiting. His nearly glowing eyes trained on her as he wordlessly gestured for her to enter, showing her where to hang her coat. As the door closed behind Christine, it seemed to trap an awkward tension in the air. She turned to see Erik watching her uneasily while his hands clasped and unclasped rhythmically by his side as he struggled to begin. Finally, he cleared his throat,  
  
“Thank you for coming, Miss Daae.” Erik swept out an arm towards the piano in the centre of the room, motioning for her to stand next to it.  
  
He moved to sit beside her and rested his hands on the keys, seeming to collect himself the moment he made contact with the instrument. “We shall begin with scales.”  
  
“We’re going right into it?” Christine asked, surprised.  
  
Erik paused and raised an eyebrow questioningly under the mask. “I promised to teach you, did I not?”  
  
“Yes, I just-“  
  
“Then there is no reason to delay.” Erik gestured for Christine to move closer, which she very cautiously did.  
  
“This is a small warm up so I can assess your voice, its strength, and your range. Now, follow my key progression please.” His voice was professional and reserved, if there was a trace of that barely controlled enthusiasm he had the day before when he was talking about his music, he hid it well. Christine rolled her shoulders back and put it from her mind to focus on the task.  
Erik played the first note and Christine took a deep breath.  
  
They got no further.  
  
“No. Not like that.”  
  
Christine’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”  
  
“Your breathing. It’s wrong.” He gestured to his diaphragm. “From here. Expand your diaphragm, not your chest.”  
  
Slightly disgruntled, Christine took another breath, focusing on not moving her chest. When Erik played the note again she could only assume it meant that she did it correctly that time.  
  
They barely managed through a run of the scales before he stopped her. He corrected her posture and began again, and would then stop her again to critique her stance before continuing once more, moving through each vowel. This happened several times before he finally seemed satisfied and they managed to run through a scale in peace. Christine felt somewhat irritated at being stopped every few moments but grudgingly realised that she could already hear a difference in her voice.  
  
At last, Erik stopped and rummaged through a stack of paper on his right, scattering more pages messily around him.   
“Tonight, you should practise deep breathing exercises, open up the diaphragm more.” He glanced at Christine and she nodded. “Now, are you at all familiar with this piece? It’s relatively simple.”  
  
He brought out a manuscript and placed it on the stand. Christine read the title and nodded.  
  
“Excellent. From the beginning then.”  
  
-  
  
“No, that is NOT the phrase.” He said in his infuriating professional tone, for what felt to Christine like the hundredth time in the past half hour. With every sudden correction from Mr Devereux, it was as if every ounce of past frustration and dislike for the man was spiking dangerously beneath her skin. And she couldn’t stop the groan from escaping her.  
  
“I am trying.” She snapped  
  
Erik’s only response was to play the phrase again on the piano and turn to her expectantly. She sighed in defeat and corrected her posture before trying again, taking a deep breath. This time she was joined by a clear, melodic voice and she barely remembered to keep singing, her eyes widening as she realised the voice belonged to Erik. It was… beautiful. There wasn’t really any other way to put it. His voice was almost angelic and when the perfectly sung phrase ended she found herself wishing to hear it again. Christine blinked at Erik for a few moments, slightly in awe.  
  
“I didn’t know you could sing” she said quietly, almost to herself.  
  
Erik stared at his hands resting on the keys, “No. Not many people do.”  
  
Shaking his head slightly, Erik closed the lid of the piano and turned away from the instrument, returning to his professional state.  
  
“We have a lot of work to do still, but that is enough for today.”  
  
Christine simply nodded, a little stung by the comment. But Meg warned her not to expect praise, so she brushed it aside and went to gather her things without a word about it.  
  
“We shall continue this in two days’ time, Miss Daae.” Erik moved to hand her a stack of music and notes but then faltered slightly, his hand lowering to his side.  
  
“That is, if you would like to continue…” he left the sentence hanging in the air.  
  
Christine extended her hand towards the music, offering a small smile. “Well, I wouldn’t call today a horrible disaster."  
Erik’s mouth twitched and Christine could see a spark of amusement in his eyes.  
  
“Well that IS high praise. I’m humbled. If you would go over these before our next lesson, I would be very much obliged”.  
  
-  
  
Erik sat in silence as the door closed behind Christine, drowning him in thoughts of their recent lesson. He allowed a small smile as he recalled her magnificent voice, still fresh in his mind. To be able to hear it so close. To be able to mould it into the divine sound it could be. Erik sighed and closed his eyes. It was bliss. True. It did need work. But what an exquisite sound.  
  
-  
  
AngelofMusic: 'And how did it go today? This was your first lesson wasn’t it?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'He does know his music very well. Not that I’ll ever tell him that. He’s rather pompous sometimes and I wouldn’t want to inflate his ego'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Perish the thought'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'He has the most beautiful voice though. I can only describe it as angelic'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Should I be concerned for my title?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'Possibly'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'Well now, we can’t have that, can we? But what about him? He didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything of the sort after everything that’s happened?'  
  
ChorusGirl: 'No. He was fine. He acted quite professional actually. Maybe a little too liberal with the criticism but it wasn’t a complete catastrophe, so I suppose I’ll be going back'  
  
AngelofMusic: 'That is good to hear'  
  
-  
  
Two days later and Christine was once again before the doors of Erik’s office. The music he had given her was clamped under one arm as she knocked and she was ready to face the next few hours with a good deal more optimism than the last time.   
She was greeted by Erik, mask in place as usual, and she moved to her spot by the piano after sharing a friendly nod.  
  
“Good evening, Miss Daae. Have you been practising?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Excellent. Now. Let’s begin.”  
  
-  
  
After the lesson had finished and Erik had handed her yet more music, giving her the same instructions as last time; practise. Christine was just about to grab the handle to leave without another word when Erik’s voice suddenly stopped her.  
  
“Why did you come here?” The question was blurted out as if he had no control over it.  
  
Christine whirled around and looked at Erik, who was sitting with his brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at the piano.  
  
“What?” she asked  
  
He turned in his seat, fixing his confused stare on her. “What convinced you to take up my offer?”  
  
She cocked her head and felt herself smile slightly, “Besides the fact that you were rather insistent about it?”  
  
Realising that Erik’s indignant grunt was the only answer she’d get, she continued.  
  
“I realised that it is what my father would want for me. He would encourage me to sing at every opportunity.” Christine looked down at the handle she was still gripping. “And well… if I can’t have our shop then I’ll have our dream.” She couldn’t help the bitter note that crept into her voice then.  
  
Erik was silent and she took it as her leave to go. She wasn’t even through the doorway when he spoke, his voice quiet and apologetic.  
  
“All of this. The business, the rivalry. It wasn’t meant as anything personal.”  
  
Christine looked back over her shoulder.  
  
“It might not have been personal to you, but it was extremely personal to me.” She shook her head and sighed. “But it’s over now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome back (again). I'm not sure when I'll be updating again but rest assured that I am NOT abandoning this fic, no matter how long it seems to be between updates. But a personal matter has come up and I may not be updating a soon as I would like.  
> Until I can manage it, here is another slapped together chapter.
> 
> Happy reading

And so their lessons progressed over the next couple of weeks and they soon fell into a ritual. Christine would arrive at Erik’s office by 5 almost every day, they shared a quick greeting before she stood in her usual spot, and an hour later she would leave. It was like clockwork. Their relationship was tentative at first with Christine being reserved and quiet between exercises, and Erik only really speaking to correct her in some way. Any conversation was short and simple between them and after their last conversation, there was a silent agreement to not make any further mentions of her shop or his business. She supposed the lessons were pleasant, even enjoyable, particularly when he sang with her, and she noticed his corrections came less and less. She couldn’t help but feel proud of herself.  
  
It wasn’t until the third week, and some notable improvement to Christine’s voice, that Erik closed the piano lid after the lesson with a satisfied nod and got up from his seat.  
  
“Would you like some tea?” Erik asked.  
  
“Tea?” Christine echoed in surprise, already halfway to her bag.  
  
“Yes, tea. It’s a herbal beverage that I’m quite fond of.” He replied dryly.  
  
Christine rolled her eyes. “I know what tea is”  
  
“Excellent. That is indeed the mark of a decent upbringing. Now. Would you like some?”  
  
“Umm” Christine’s eyes glanced towards the clock on the mantelpiece “Sure. Okay”  
  
She slipped her bag off of her shoulder and sat down on the sofa, watching as Erik poured.  
  
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.  
  
“Should there be one?” he queried, handing her a cup. “Perhaps I fancied a cup of tea and felt it rude not to offer one to you.”  
  
She couldn’t argue with that really.  
  
Erik’s hands resting in a steeple in front of his face as he rested comfortably on the couch, his own tea resting in front of him.  
  
“I hope the lessons have lived up to expectations.”  
  
Christine nodded as she sipped her tea and found it sweetened exactly to her liking.  
  
“I could hear a difference after the first day.”  
  
“I’m glad.”  
  
The fell into silence, each of them focusing on their tea.  
  
“What is your favourite type of music?” Erik suddenly asked.  
  
Christine raised an eyebrow, curious as to where that came from. But she tilted her head, pondering for a moment.  
  
“Country”  
  
She could feel a bubble of laughter rise up in her when she saw his entire demeanour drop and the look of disbelief settle in.  
  
“You can’t be serious.” He all but whispered. Privately, Erik was questioning every conversation of music they had ever had. She had never mentioned a liking for that drivel before. He was comforted then when he heard her let out a laugh at his confusion.  
  
“No. Of course I’m not.”  
  
Immediately, the atmosphere relaxed a little bit more and Erik allowed himself a small smile as he realised she was teasing him.  
  
“Thank goodness. I was worried for a moment.”  
  
She shook her head. “I love classical music.”  
  
Erik nodded knowingly. “Ah! I should have known. And of course you have an interest in musical theatre, if my memory serves correct.”  
  
“Of course. Now.” She leant forward slightly as if to get a better look at him. “I have a feeling that you also like musicals and classical music.”  
  
Erik rested his chin on his knuckle and leant back in his seat. “Incredible, Miss Daae.” He said dryly, “And what do you base these grand deductions on?”  
  
She gestured to their surroundings, inviting him to take in the multiple compositions, the magnificent piano and the general location. “A hunch.”  
  
He smirked, enjoying this.  
  
“There’s also the fact that I’ve never see you in anything but a suit. It's rather dramatic.”  
  
“I see. Indisputable proof. But yes. You are correct. I favour Mozart of all composers but I have a great liking for Johann Strauss’ work.”  
  
Christine smiled as she remembered that was her angel’s favourite too.  
  
“What is it?” Erik asked.  
  
“Mozart is my friend’s favourite as well.”  
  
Erik stilled for a moment, his cup halfway up to his mouth, cursing himself, the movement going unnoticed by Christine. “He is a favourite of many.” He responded smoothly.  
  
He set his now empty up in front of him.  
  
“So. How did things go with your mysterious friend? I assume you took my advice.”  
  
Christine nodded thoughtfully over her own cup. “We’re still speaking. I asked him if he wanted to try meet again.”  
  
Erik gestured for her to continue, “And?”  
  
She shrugged in response, a little embarrassed talking about it. “He said that he had a project that needed ‘fine tuning’.” She emphasised the last words.  
  
Erik raised one eyebrow behind his mask.  
  
“Fine tuning?”  
  
“That’s what he said, yes.”  
  
“Now that IS mysterious. A project? Any ideas as to what he could be referring to?”  
  
Christine shook her head, her brow furrowing in thought.  
  
“Maybe it’s just work that he needs to get through. I don’t know,” she groaned. “I don’t really know much about his life, you know.”  
  
She jumped slightly when Erik clicked his fingers as an idea ‘struck’ him.  
  
“Married.”  
  
Christine couldn’t help the involuntary snort at his words and she had to set her cup back on the table. “Woah, What?”  
  
“He’s married. Three kids.” Erik was nodding knowingly as if it all made sense. A light twinkle in his eye, thoroughly enjoying his little game as Christine huffed and puzzled over the idea.  
  
“That is a horrible thing to say.” She laughed. “He couldn’t be married.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“What makes you so sure?”  
  
“I just” she struggled to find the words to convey her thoughts. But in truth she had never thought of the awful possibility.  
  
“He’s just not the kind of man to do that.”  
  
Erik leant back and gave a non-committing shrug. “Have you ever asked him?”  
  
The look of bafflement on her face was enough of an answer. “I… no”  
  
“Perhaps that should be clarified before arranging another meet up with Miss Austen.” He suggested.  
  
“Oh, shut up, Devereux.” She retorted. But the quirk of her mouth gave away her humour.  
  
“Such harsh words, Miss Daae.”  
  
-  
  
Later that night, Christine sat nervously at her computer. The question burning from her head to her fingertips on the keyboard. Married? Could he be? It had honestly never occurred to her to figure that out, all too caught up in the idea of mystery. She took a deep breath and began to type.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I know, I know, it may be a little late to be asking you this, but it only just occurred to me. Are you married?’  
  
She sat back and waited anxiously for his reply. She jumped as the notification rang through the room alerting her to his response.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Am I married? A bit of an odd question, I must say. I’d like to think that I don’t come across as the kind of person who talks to women online behind the back of another.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘I suppose your friends believe that the reason we haven’t met is that ‘I’m married.’’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘You’re absolutely right. And no. You don’t come across that way at all.’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Now that is a comfort’  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘How was your lesson today?’  
  
-  
  
“He didn’t answer the question.” Erik said incredulously the next day. The lesson was done and they were once again sitting down to a cup of tea, the conversation starting so much easier this time.  
  
“He did.” Christine insisted. “He knew exactly what was up. Which, by the way, is exactly like him. He guessed that some of my ‘friends’-” she side eyed Erik as she said this “-suspected him because of that reason.”  
  
“But he did not answer the question, did he?” Erik hit his leg to the rhythm of his words, emphasising each one.  
  
Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of a defence. Defeated, she slumped back against the couch with her hands covering her face.  
  
“No.”  
  
Erik nodded, in thought. “I know what will take your mind off of it.” He got up from the couch.  
  
Christine looked up to see Erik standing with a large stack of music scores in his hands.  
  
“For you to practise.”  
  
Christine slumped even further into the couch. “You’re too kind.”  
  
“You’re very welcome, Miss Daae.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient once more. I really needed that time.  
> Thanks to all who left a comment and Kudos and kicked my ass back into the story. I had a read over them and it inspired me to continue.
> 
> I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas (consider this a late gift)
> 
> Happy Reading

“You haven’t been to see me in aaaages” Meg yelled as she ran down the hall to meet Christine.  
  
“It hasn’t even been two weeks.” Christine huffed as her friend collided into her with outstretched arms. She stooped awkwardly to drop her bags on the floor so she could hug her friend properly.  
  
“And now we are together once more, we shall never again be parted,” Meg cried dramatically into Christine’s shoulder, rocking back and forth.  
  
Christine rolled her eyes and patted her friend’s head.  
  
“I missed you too.”  
  
“Of course you did.” She said, breaking abruptly from her dramatics. “Now.” reaching for Christine’s bag, Meg moved towards the living room, “Get comfortable. It's Saturday and we are in for a night of wine and gossip.”  
  
Christine followed her friend down the hallway, her head glancing left and right as she passed many framed photos.  
  
“How’s the performance been?” she asked.  
  
“It’s been amazing” Meg turned around with a grin, clamping her hands together. “You’re still coming to see it aren’t you? It’s the last week.”  
  
“Of course I am,” Christine assured “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”  
  
She held back a groan as they entered the room and she slumped onto the couch, closing her eyes. She was exhausted, having read Erik’s massive stack of music late into the night. She would show him.  
  
“Great.” Her friend continued “Because I got you a ticket for the last night on Friday.” Meg reached forward and grabbed a bottle of wine resting on the table, uncorking it with a satisfying pop. “It’s only one though... and it’s not the best seat…do you mind going if there is no one else with you? It’s just that mum’s already seen it and I really wanted you to come. I’m sorry. I should have prepared better for this-”  
  
“It’s fine” she assured. Accepting a glass, Christine nodded, raising it in a toast. “And I’ll absolutely be there.”  
  
Meg grinned and took a sip from her own glass before quickly lowering it again and waving her hand in the air excitedly as she swallowed.  
  
“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot. How are your lessons with the prince of darkness going?”  
  
Christine quirked an eyebrow and laughed. “Wow. Is he really that intimidating to you guys?”  
  
“He parts a crowd like Moses.” Meg whispered dramatically. “But seriously. It’s like one more week and you’re free, right? I’d be so relieved.”  
  
Christine’s smile fell slightly and she stared at the contents of her glass with her brow furrowed. She raised the glass to her mouth, not drinking, just letting the wine delicately touch her lips, lost in thought. That’s right. She almost forgot that. They had agreed on a month’s trial, hadn’t they? On Monday she would have to give him an answer.  
  
“Christine?”  
  
She shook her head to clear it and looked at her friend.  
  
“Hmm? Sorry. I was thinking. No, yeah. The lessons actually haven’t been that bad.”  
  
Meg’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? It hasn’t been awkward or anything?”  
  
She shook her head in response. “I guess it was a first.”  
  
Christine tapped her fingers against the glass, letting the rhythm help her ponder. It was true. But ever since she had tea that first time, Christine found herself staying back a little bit longer every day, throwing off their normal, clockwork routine. They would talk about almost anything that came to mind; art, movies, flowers, whether or not Erik should expand his wardrobe to more colourful options and patterns. That last one brought a small smile to her lips as she remembered him indignantly trying to fend off the idea of spots. ‘A ridiculous pattern. I’m not some bathing beauty, Miss Daae’.  
  
But the best thing was the music. Every so often, Christine would see that little spark of passion and enthusiasm when they spoke of a piece and Erik would quickly rush to his piano and play it, flawlessly, leaving her entranced.  
  
Meg surveyed her friend, waiting to see if she’d say anything else. The little quirk of Christine’s lips did not escape her notice.  
  
“You’re starting to enjoy it. Aren’t you?” she said. It wasn’t really a question.  
  
The tapping stopped suddenly as Christine took in what Meg said.  
  
Wordlessly, she nodded.  
  
-  
  
“Repeat that phrase again please, Miss Daae.”  
  
Taking a deep breath once more as she began the repetitive phrase again, Christine allowed for her eyes to wonder around the room. It was Thursday. With only a handful of days left to learn before she gave her decision, Erik had been working her tirelessly through multiple exercises and songs. He never mentioned the deadline though. Perhaps he hoped she had forgotten about the agreement? Still. He had seemed impressed when she came in after the weekend and slammed the stack of paper in front of him.  
  
“Didn’t enjoy your homework?” He had asked with a quirked grin.  
  
“Done” She replied triumphantly.  
  
She relished the sight of his smile giving way to shock.  
  
That triumph soon gave way to regret as Erik saw it as a chance to test her on what she had read. And now, she was trying to keep entertained by browsing while she sang. Glancing over the piano and the stacks of paper surrounding it, the large window on the far wall, and the numerous shelves and books lining the edge of the room. By now all of these things had become familiar to her… Except… Her singing trailed off slightly as she leant around Erik to get a better look at the bookshelf behind his desk. The playing stopped and Erik looked around to see what had gotten her attention. Wordlessly he got up from his seat and crossed the room to that spot, her eyes trained on him as he lifted up a long, black case she had never seen in his office before.  
  
She gasped as he came closer, recognising the work anywhere.  
  
“Is that?”  
  
Erik nodded and opened the case, turning it towards Christine.  
  
One of her father’s violins. The very one she had sold to Erik when they had met. Before everything. It was in perfect condition. Well maintained and gleaming with the mark of a caring owner. She felt her eyes well up against her will and she breathed in heavily.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She caught herself, consciously wiping her eye with her jacket sleeve. It was as if her father was suddenly in the room, after so long without the store to remind her of him. To suddenly see this. It caught her completely off guard.  
  
“I don’t know why I’m acting like this.” She mumbled.  
  
Erik watched her as this change took over her, feeling almost guilty for making her feel upset in any way.  
  
Wordlessly, he reached into the case and carefully withdrew the instrument as Christine watched on with a watery gaze. He tightened the bowstring and raised the violin to rest comfortably on his shoulder. His long fingers danced along the neck of the instrument as he moved the bow elegantly against the strings. The clear, perfect voice of the violin sang out into the room. Surrounding them both and resounding around the room in the perfect acoustics Erik had ensured. He closed his eyes as he glided into the higher notes. Christine watched on, amazed and enthralled. Seeing her father’s violin played so beautifully and with such care. It filled her will joy and so many memories. She sat down on the couch and leant back against the cool leather. The Lark ascending. She loved this piece. It was one of her father’s favourites and he had often played it around the shop on the slower days. Christine allowed her eyes to close and her breathing to slow, feeling her mind ease.  
  
She let herself think of the times that for the past few months had been too painful to think about. How she would dance in the shop while her father played. All the countless hours she spent on her papa's knee while he played the piano, her hands covering his as his fingers crossed the keys. The way he would always encourage her to sing along. It hurt. All of these bittersweet memories. But it felt number, somehow. Fainter.  
  
As the final note rang out, it left them in a comfortable silence.  
  
After several moments, Erik removed the violin from under his chin and gently returned it to its case, locking it securely once more.  
  
“I have never owned a finer instrument, Christine.” He finally said, gently breaking the silence.  
  
Christine nodded. Her eyes shining.  
  
“Thank you… Erik”  
  
Erik’s eyes locked on hers in surprise. She so rarely used his name. In fact. Had she ever used it? He couldn’t remember. Christine was looking at him with such warmth in her eyes. That certainly wasn’t something she’d done before. Seeing such a look. Directed towards HIM? It was so unfamiliar. Unnatural. He forgot to breathe. She had such lovely eyes, he couldn’t help but think.  
  
Suddenly realising that he was staring, Erik turned away and cleared his throat.  
  
“Ahem. You’re welcome, Miss Daae.” He moved towards the cabinet to return the violin, mentally shaking himself off. “I think that’s all for today, at any rate. Help yourself to some tea.”  
  
-  
  
“Erik. You know if you would just answer your phone, I would not have to barge I-”. Nadir stopped in his tracks, his feet making a scuffling sound against the carpet in protest of the sudden movement.  
  
Christine could see Erik visibly stiffen in the corner of her eye.  
  
“Need I remind you of the etiquette of knocking, Daroga?” he growled, irritation seeping out of every syllable.  
  
Despite his entrance, Nadir seemed un-phased and instead let his eyes shift from Erik to Christine as he took in the scene. When he finally caught the look in Erik’s eye he cleared his throat and gestured randomly with his phone, a cheeky gleam entering his eye.  
  
“Well you don’t answer your phone. Do I need to educate you on how they work?” He rose his eyebrow in challenge. “Again?”  
  
Christine tried her best to hide her smile as Erik huffed crossly.  
  
“What do you want, Kahn?”  
  
Ignoring his friend’s heated tone, Nadir strode forward, arm outstretched, towards Christine with a jovial smile on his face.  
  
“Nadir Kahn, Miss Daae.” He took her hand and kissed it lightly as Erik glared behind him. “I’ve heard much about you from our delightful friend here.”  
  
Christine laughed. “Then I’m quite concerned about what he’s been saying. I’d introduce myself but it seems you already know all the pleasantries.”  
  
“Wonderful to meet you all the same. Don't worry. I’ve heard nothing but the best.”  
  
Nadir finally turned to Erik, his smile fading slightly and the questions in his eyes rising to the surface.  
  
“I need to borrow you for a moment.”  
  
“Must it be now, Daroga?”  
  
“It’s either now, when in a few minutes time, I will have other duties to attend to, or it can be later, when I have nothing to distract me from bothering you and all the time to do so. It’s your choice.”  
  
Erik groaned and got up from his chair, moving towards the door with Nadir close behind him.  
  
“We’ll just be a moment, Christine.”  
  
The moment the door closed behind them, Nadir let out an aggravated sigh and pinched his brow.  
  
“Do you mind explaining what the hell you are playing at, Erik?”  
  
Erik straightened up and held his head high. “I don’t recall the need to explain my dealings with you, Daroga.”  
  
“Yes but when it comes to Christine Daae you cannot deny me some curiosity. What is she doing in your office having tea with you? As if you are old friends” His head jerked up from his hand and he fixed Erik with a disbelieving stare, “Does she know yet?”  
  
“No. of course not.” Erik snapped. He paused, taking a deep breath to collect himself and sighed, aware that the matter would not be let go unless he told Nadir. “At least not yet.”  
  
Ignoring his friends’ disbelieving look he continued,  
  
“For now, I am just giving her lessons. Is that so horrible?”  
  
As Nadir’s face contorted with confusion, Erik noted, with amusement, the vast range of infuriated and bewildered expressions his friend displays when speaking with him.  
  
“Lessons? Why?”  
  
“She has a magnificent voice, Nadir. I have never been one to let an angelic instrument sit idle without exploring its full potential.”  
  
“She is not some instrument for you to play, Erik. Be honest with me. What do you hope to get out of this?”  
  
Erik’s gaze drifted to the door of his office, unsure of his true answer.  
  
“Erik?”  
  
“No one has come close to fulfilling the main role in my opera” He finally settled.  
  
“And you’re training her for that? I am impressed. How did you even get her to agree?”  
  
At his friend’s sudden silence, Nadir felt his exasperation rise and he closed his eyes to collect himself.  
  
“Oh Erik. You haven’t even asked her have you?”  
  
Still, Erik was silent.  
  
“Erik, this is getting ridicul-”  
  
“I do not need to explain myself to you, Nadir” Erik hissed. “I am going to ask her. But it is not the right time.” He gripped the handle to his office and turned his back to Nadir.  
  
“Don’t barge in again.”  
  
Leaving Nadir to his frustration in the hallway, he pushed through the door, trying not to slam it behind him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello. Thank you all for your magnificent comments. I loved every single one (Sorry I didn't get around to replying). 
> 
> Well. Here it is. Another chapter. It's slightly longer since this was going to be sorted into two, but I thought this edit left the ending with such a lovely little cliffhanger.
> 
> Please let me know what you think
> 
> Happy reading

Christine woke up the next day as the sun peeked in through the curtains, leaving a blade of light directly on the bed. She stretched leisurely, enjoying the feel of the warm blankets surrounding her. She glanced at her clock. 10:00. She had slept in. But then, Christine had spent almost every night up late practising and reading Erik’s music. She deserved this one lazy morning, she reasoned. Sitting up and turning to place her feet on the floor, Christine mentally ran through the checklist for day. It was beautifully blank, save for the performance that night. The question was how to spend it. Even her outfit was already picked. A formal red dress hung on the door, Meg had specifically helped her select it, even lending her some gold heels.  
  
Shuffling past the dress to the kitchen for breakfast, Christine pondered on what to do for the day, her eyes glanced to the living room where the couch sat, inviting. She saw the bookshelf against the wall filled with books still to be read. Perhaps one of those. A smile grew on her face as the peaceful image came to her. Yes. Perfect. An afternoon of slippers and of tea.  
  
-  
  
Stepping out from the cab, Christine immediately regretted her decision to forgo the overcoat on her way out. The air was starting to turn cooler at this time of the year and the night seemed to be attempting to display its very best of frigid breezes. She rubbed her arms as she walked to the steps of the theatre. The building was brimming with chatty and excited patrons, clutching brochures and champagne glasses while bathing in the golden light coming from the auditorium. Clutching her purse to her side, protectively, Christine excused and pardoned herself through the crowd. While standing awkwardly in front of a group of people, too engaged in conversation to notice her attempts to move through, Christine found herself feeling a little foolish being by herself. In an attempt to distract herself, she allowed her eyes to scan around the room to take in the theatre in all its glory.  
  
The entire hall was glistening. The marble floors gleamed in a beautiful contrast against the red carpet. The light from the chandelier danced around the room and illuminated everything to look so regal, almost golden.  
  
Finally managing to push through, she made her way to the booth selling programs where she purchased on of her own. Eagerly flipping through to find Meg’s picture.  
  
“Miss Daae?” came a familiar deep voice.  
  
Christine turned, smiling, to see Erik. Somewhat relieved to see a familiar face, as it were. He was immaculately dressed in his usual suit. Not a hair was out of place, and as her eyes glanced down, Christine could swear she could see her reflection in his shoes.  
  
“Erik!” she called over, taking a step closer to him. “What are you doing here?” She asked.  
  
“Here?” He replied in a curious tone, gesturing to the surroundings elegantly. “In my theatre? On this, the night of the final performance?” he shrugged slightly. “It is a mystery.”  
  
Christine closed her eyes slowly in embarrassment at her stupid question. Erik chuckled softly.  
  
“I suppose you’re here for Miss Giry?”  
  
She nodded in reply. “She only told me about the ticket a few days ago.”  
  
Erik let out an ‘ah’ in understanding.  
  
“And where will you be sitting?” He asked over the clamour of the other guests.  
  
Christine brandished her ticket with a flourish, scanning the number. “H15.”  
  
Erik raised an eyebrow. “I see. I suppose it’s the best your friend could manage on short notice.” He raised his head and looked around over the crowded foyer. “But where is your accompaniment for the evening?”  
  
Christine sighed. “Yeah, another perk of being so late. It’s just me.”  
  
She watched as his eyes widened slightly at her.  
  
“Alone? Miss Daae-“  
  
Christine interrupted him suddenly. “You know. I think we’re past the formalities at this point.” She smiled up at his masked face. “Just call me Christine.”  
  
Erik hesitated.  
  
“Very well… Christine. I have a spare seat in my box. If you would care to join me.”  
  
Seizing on a moment of bravado, he offered his arm to her. But at her perplexed look, his moment fizzled and his arm dropped back to his side.  
  
“Of course it is your decision and-“  
  
“You have your own box?” She asked in wonder, interrupting once more.  
  
He looked at her. “Well yes. Owning a theatre comes with some perks.”  
  
Hardly hesitating, Christine reached forward and took hold of Erik’s arm, looping her own through his. She smiled up at him and Erik felt this odd rush of warmth to his cheeks. Ridiculous.  
  
“That’d be wonderful. Lead on, Monsieur.”  
  
Erik looked down at his arm in amazement for a moment, savouring the sensation, before turning to lead them to Box 5. He dared to imagine that his other hand was covering hers as they walked. Of course it was only a fantasy to one such as him.  
They were barely a few steps when a voice rang out.  
  
“CHRISTINE!”  
  
Both Erik and Christine whirled around to see where that cry came from. Erik’s eyes were scanning over the well-dressed crowd when he felt Christine go rigid next to him.  
  
“Raoul?” She whispered to herself in wonder.  
  
He looked forward and saw a younger man run towards them, an immense grin plastered on his face. Christine moved towards the boy, her arm slipping from his, leaving him feeling cold despite the warm atmosphere.  
  
Christine could barely contain her laugh as she was gathered into a massive hug that nearly knocked her off balance. Raoul. He was here. She couldn’t believe it. The new life in California must have suited him. He looked wonderful. His hair was neatly brushed back, his dark blue suit was spotless and, did she imagine it? he even seemed to have a slight tan.  
  
“What are you doing here?” She finally asked once they broke apart.  
  
Raoul grinned and fixed his suit. “It’s Meg’s performance. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”  
  
“But work-“  
  
Raoul brushed off the question. “They owe me some time. Besides-” He motioned for her to twirl. “I had to see you again. You look wonderful, Little Lotte.”  
  
Christine smiled warmly. “It’s so good to see you. How long are you here for?”  
  
“Only ‘till tomorrow. That’s all I could manage.”  
  
Raoul glanced past Christine casually for just a moment. It was as if he had finally noticed his surroundings and his smile dropped as he saw Erik’s white mask. Behind the pale covering, his eyes were staring coldly at the display. Raoul straightened up and moved slightly so that he was in front of Christine.  
  
Christine finally remembered Erik standing there and she was shocked at her thoughtlessness. She looked around at Raoul who was suddenly fully in front of her and staring heatedly at Erik. She felt a surge of worry, remembering that Raoul had missed so much. She placed her hand on his shoulder, comfortingly.  
  
“Oh, Raoul. This is Erik Devereux. Erik. This is Raoul De’Chagny.”  
  
Neither man moved.  
  
“Yes, I know who he is, Christine” Raoul said coolly. Barely sparing Erik another glance, Raoul turned back towards Christine, warmth returning to his eyes. His hand pressed insistently on her back.  
  
“Perhaps we should take our seats. They should be starting soon.”  
  
Christine felt her puzzlement reflect on her face. “Our seats?”  
  
Raoul smiled and withdrew from his pocket, a ticket which he waved in front of her.  
  
“I asked Meg where you were sitting and I pulled some strings. Thought I might surprise you.”  
  
Christine looked closely at Raoul’s ticket. Sure enough. It read H16.  
  
“Oh, Raoul. That’s fantastic. I-”  
  
She felt her brief moment of excitement end as reality crashed on her. Erik. She had already agreed to sit with Erik. She closed her eyes, as if in pain. But Raoul was only here for a day. She felt apprehension claw at her chest as her mind flickered between the two options. She opened her mouth to speak just as Erik stepped forward.  
  
“That’s not possible I’m afraid Mr De’Chagny.” He stood, towering over Raoul, who drew himself up to his own, (comparatively rather unimpressive), height.  
  
“Oh?” He asked heatedly. “And why is that?”  
  
“Because she’s accompanying me” he said, his voice echoing the fact triumphantly.  
  
Raoul raised his eyes in shock and looked around Erik to Christine, surprise etched on his face.  
  
“Really, Christine?”  
  
Christine feebly nodded. Her mouth opened and closed helplessly as she glanced between the two men. Erik, leering over her childhood friend, and Raoul, rising up to meet the look with an equally fierce glower. Neither man seemed fazed by the animosity they were each met with. Christine was at a loss of what to do. Each case was playing before her. Erik, her teacher who had asked her to accompany him first, if only just. And Raoul, her dear friend who was here for just one night. She couldn’t suddenly refuse Erik. Could she? But Raoul had obviously planned this. Had she been alone, Christine would have buried her head in a pillow and screamed. Why must it be like this? Taking a deep breath to steady her resolve, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Erik’s arm, moving between them and facing him. His eyes snapped to her at the gesture and she could see them visibly soften. She took another deep breath, hating this moment.  
  
“Erik.” She said quietly, so Raoul wouldn’t be able to hear. “I know I said I’d sit with you. And I am so sorry. But Raoul is only here for one night and it’s been so long since I last saw him.” She took a deep breath. “Would you mind if I sat with him?” she asked, ripping off the last sentence like a band-aid.  
  
Her words, though gentle, crashed upon Erik as he realised what she was saying. She was choosing the boy over him. This foppish, handsome, fool. Mind? Of course he minded. He felt anger and frustration build up as he glanced over at the boy’s insufferable face. But then he looked down at Christine. She was nervously biting her lip. He could tell she was obviously trying to avoid a scene.  
  
Silently he nodded, standing tall and rigid.  
  
“Enjoy the performance. I hope it is to your liking.” And refusing to look either of them in the face, he turned and headed towards his own private, and suddenly very lonely, box.  
  
“I’ll see you after?” she called out weakly to his retreating form, not expecting a reply and receiving none.  
  
Christine felt immense guilt at what she had done. Raoul brushed off the confrontation as if it never happened, though his hand never left her shoulder as they made their way to their seats. He began telling her about his new job and how much he loved living in California. Of course, he missed home and all his friends though. Christine tried her best to be attentive. She asked him questions about his new life and tried to focus on his little anecdotes. But as they sat down, she couldn’t help but glance every so often at where she knew box 5 was. She couldn’t see very much. Barely an outline. But he was there. And she knew he was looking right at them. She shivered.  
  
Finally, the overture began and the curtain rose. Christine sat back, at last allowing herself to calm down and take it all in.  
  
-  
  
Erik shifted the crumpled program from his clenched fist, attempting to distract himself. His eyes scanned over the names of the cast, not taking in a word.  
  
Confound it.  
  
Why had that insolent boy shown up?  
  
But what had he been expecting? Of course she wouldn’t choose him.  
  
The lights dimmed and the first act began. Erik sat purposefully facing the stage, methodically naming each instrument and note he heard. He noticed that Meg was doing particularly well and made a note to give her a role in his work. It calmed him a little, thinking of the performance. But every so often his mind would wander, or there would be a pause and he would focus on it again.  
  
He glanced over the rim of his box, his eyes immediately focusing on Christine in the dark room. She was transfixed by what was on the stage and he watched as her face subtly mirrored the emotions of the characters. He felt himself smile at the sight. It barely lasted a moment when suddenly the boy reached around and placed his arm behind her.  
  
No. He shook his head. That’s right. She made her choice. He got up from his seat and left his box. The first act had not even ended.  
  
Erik marched down the hallway leading to his office, leaving the faint sounds of the music behind him. He shouldered open his door and all but slammed it behind him. It took a moment of standing in the dark, breath heavy with emotions, before he stormed towards his piano, crashing his hand against the ivory keys and revelling in the chaotic sound that emerged. Ignoring the stool, Erik loomed over the instrument, bringing his hands down over and over as he played whatever feelings he experienced. The terrible sound filled the room, echoing around and amplifying Erik’s thoughts. Anger, frustration. Why did this affect him so much? She was being sensible, he reasoned. No one could tolerate a monster.  
  
Erik allowed the final frenzied note to ring out before he slumped down on the chair, closing the lid and resting his arms on the surface, cradling his head in his hands. He let his fingers run through his wig for a moment, savouring the feeling of the synthetic hair, before clenching it and ripping it off. Setting his wig aside, Erik’s hands then traced the edges of his mask. He sighed as the cool porcelain soothed his aching fingers before slowly removing it too and tossing it onto the couch at the far end of the room. The air was not unpleasant against his exposed face and Erik took deep, calming breaths to steady himself against the onslaught of thoughts and feelings.  
  
-  
  
Christine stood along with everyone else as the cast walked forward, hand in hand, to take their final bow. She and Raoul whooped and cheered loudest of all as Meg ran forward and bowed for the audience. It had been an incredible performance. The story was as heartbreaking as ever, the singing was phenomenal (though with her now trained ear, Christine could pick up some faults), and the atmosphere was amazing. To be a part of something like this? It would be like a dream.  
  
At last the applause died down as the curtain descended. The chatter of the audience rose up as everyone shuffled towards the exits.  
  
“That was incredible.” Raoul sighed in awe.  
  
“Meg did so well” Christine said. “I can’t wait to congratulate her”  
  
“She did awesome.”  
  
“Someone was a little flat in the chorus though” Christine said quietly to her friend as they made their way through the foyer and into the night air, thanking the ushers as they passed.  
  
Raoul laughed. “Of course, you have been taught to have super critical perceptiveness. I didn’t notice it.”  
  
They stopped outside the theatre and sat on a stone wall, Raoul insistently protecting her dress by unfolding his pocket handkerchief on the brick foundation. As they chatted, the chill in the night air caught up with them and he ended up draping his jacket over her shoulders too.  
  
“So.” Christine began, “You’ve told me so much about California, but you’ve failed to mention if you’ve found yourself a nice girl over there.”  
  
At the sight of Raoul’s blush, Christine felt a teasing smile grow. “Oh? There IS someone. Isn’t there.” She leant against Raoul good-naturedly. “And what is her name?”  
  
“Oliver.” Raoul muttered in embarrassment.  
  
Christine bit back a laugh at her mistake. “How did you meet?”  
  
She smiled at the way Raoul's eyes lit up when he told her about how he met his partner at the printer on the floor below. So cliché. So sweet.  
  
“We’ve been together for a few months now.”  
  
“But what about you?” He finally asked, nudging her playfully, “Anyone in your life?”  
  
Christine laughed despite herself.  
  
“Oh no. Not for me. Things have been waaay too busy for me to be thinking about that. Besides,” she pulled the coat closer around her as her mind drifted to her angel, “I’m waiting to meet the right person. He’s out there somewhere.”  
  
Raoul smiled and they sat in silence, each thinking of their own futures.  
  
“So how are these lessons going?” Raoul eventually asked.  
  
Christine shrugged, trying not to allow the guilt to creep up again at the mention of Erik. “Better than expected. I’ve learnt quite a lot from him.”  
  
She did not expect the sudden silence that followed her words. She looked over at Raoul, who was staring with a furrowed brow at the sidewalk.  
  
“How?” he finally asked.  
  
Christine quirked her head, not quite understanding the sudden question. “How what?”  
  
“How could you have even taken lessons from him?”  
  
Christine sighed. “I know. At first I was kicking myself for even agreeing.” She drummed her fingers on the wall next to her as she remembered. “I thought he was smug and obnoxious and entitled.” Raoul nodded silently next to her, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“But I started to get to know him. He’s not so bad. He's actually really nice”  
  
“But what could you possibly see in him?" Her friend asked in frustration, "After everything he did?”  
  
“I don’t know, Raoul.” Christine suddenly retorted, throwing up her hands. Her voice softened as she continued “He just seems so familiar. It's like I’ve known him for ages.”  
  
“I don’t understand.” Raoul muttered.  
  
“I’m not asking you to.” Christine hopped off from the wall took off Raoul’s jacket and held it out to him. Even though they were outside, it suddenly felt too stuffy. She needed to see Erik. To apologise and make sure he was alright.  
  
Raoul sighed and pushed off from the wall too. “Christine, I’m sorry.”  
  
“I know,” she said, still holding out the jacket. “But I have to go see him.”  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked, hesitantly taking his jacket. “Do you want me to wait for you?”  
  
“No. You go on. Please apologise to Meg for me. Tell her she did an amazing job”  
  
Raoul stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “I will. I’ll call you when I get back to California. Okay? Take care of yourself.”  
  
Christine nodded against his shoulder before stepping back. With a final wave she turned and headed back up the steps into the theatre, making her way through the last of the crowd in a beeline to Erik’s office. She felt terrible. First she had turned on Erik’s offer, then she had left Raoul and Meg when she could’ve caught up with them. But Christine felt she needed to make sure Erik was okay. She couldn't leave it. She had noticed his shadow had disappeared during intermission and had not returned. It had been sitting in the back of her mind for the rest of the performance. What she had done was completely unfair.  
  
Finally Christine approached the familiar, heavy wooden door of Erik’s office. She stopped and raised her fist to knock. Then hesitated. Would Erik want to see her? Would he open the door, or even answer her if he knew it was her? Was he that dramatic? Christine wasn’t sure.  
  
Plagued with the uncertainty, Christine shifted her hand to hover over the doorknob. She paused for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and pushing the carelessly unlocked door, open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh damn. What's going to happen next?
> 
> How do you think Christine will react to Erik without a mask? How do you think Erik will react to it all? I have ideas but I want to see what someone else would expect from the characterisation.
> 
> Let me know


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo! Late once more. It's a nasty habit, I know. I'm trying to give it up. But here we are once more.  
> This chapter was rushed, I'll be the first to admit it. Feedback here is always welcome. Some things happened recently that really threw me off and I took longer than I thought to recover.  
> Uni has also begun and will take up a lot of my time from now on. I'm not sure how that will affect this. But please be patient.
> 
> Until the next time, Happy reading

The office was dark and gloomy, save for the few candles scattered around the room that cast a faint, eerie glow. In the back of Christine’s mind, she considered what a terrible fire hazard that was with so many of Erik’s papers lying around. She shifted further past the door, one leg entering the room. She couldn’t see anything, not even the large piano in the candle light. Groping the side of the wall, Christine blindly searched to find the light switch. She tilted her head at the sound of rustling paper. Was that Erik?  
  
At last, her hand passed over the switch, casting the room in a bright light. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden change and they flickered uncertainly past the mass of scattered paper on the floor. Her gaze immediately snapped to the form of Erik as he jerked upright from the piano as the switch was flicked. But something was off, Christine realised. Erik’s normally sleek black hair was gone. In its place was wispy, patchy, straggles of hair, barely covering his head. She did not have much time to think about it further before Erik let out a low, irritated growl and whirled around.  
  
“Damn it, Nadir. I told you to knock-“  
  
Erik’s words were jammed in the back of his throat and his sunken eyes widened as they found, not Nadir, but Christine. He froze. No. It couldn't be. She wasn't here. She was with the boy. Surely.  
  
Christine’s heart stopped for a moment as Erik’s face came into view. His whole face. There was no mask in the way this time. There was nothing to stop her from seeing. She knew there had to be a purpose. All of the odd comments and gestures. She had to realise that he needed the mask for a reason. A burn? An ugly scar?  
  
But there was nothing in the world that could have prepared her for the sight. Whatever she had pictured under his mask had never come close. His face was shocking, thin skinned and malformed, with veins tracing along the side of his head that was turned towards her. Oh god. He had no nose, only the hole where a nose should have been.  
  
The light of the room left no cruel detail in shadow and Christine couldn’t help but clap a hand to her mouth in shock as she saw the skin stretched so tight over his head. Could she see his skull? She felt a wave of nausea set in. She couldn’t help it.  
  
“Chris- Christine.” Erik’s entire body began to shake as the truth set in. “You- What?” He clamped a hand over his eyes, covering the worst of his face and squeezing his head almost painfully. He was breathing heavily, each breath hissing against his clenched teeth. Erik saw. He could see the horror in her eyes. The way her arms clung to her middle protectively. Yes. This was how they all reacted.  
  
Christine opened and closed her mouth, unable to say any words. They died before they reached her lips. What could she even say?  
  
Erik suddenly turned from her, his arms slamming, and leaning heavily against the piano top to steady himself. His shoulders rose and fell as he continued his violent breathing before he snapped. He let out a horrible yell and swept his arms along the piano, scattering paper around the room. Christine jumped at the horrible sound and covered her ears.  
  
“NO!” he snarled.  
  
Christine could only stand there in shock, staring at Erik, her hands still clamped on the sides of her head. Though his back was turned, she could still clearly see the image of his face burned into her mind. She felt a shiver pass through her body as Erik let out a dark chuckle. This is not Erik. She told herself. This is not the Erik she knew.  
  
“Of course, I'm quite handsome aren't I, Christine? Isn’t this what you were expecting?” he hissed.  
  
His voice was cracking with emotion. His entire form shuddering. He turned back towards her and she instinctively took a step back towards the door. He stopped. The light in Erik’s eyes seemed to die as he saw this. All energy left him. He was so tired of this. Slumping back onto the piano chair, his hands reached up to cover his hideous face once more.  
  
“Get out.” He whispered.  
  
“I- I’m sorry” Christine breathed, cursing the way her voice wavered and betrayed her.  
  
“GET OUT!” He screamed, slamming his hands on the piano and summoning a demonic cacophony.  
  
Christine felt her heart shudder at the sound and turning, she moved towards the open door. But she looked back before she had even made a few steps, feeling a tug in the back of her mind that stopped her. She was screaming at herself, begging her to leave, but the sight that greeted her made her hesitate. Erik had ceased the tirade of music almost as quickly as he had started it. And now he was slumped over the keys. His arms wrapped protectively around his head. He looked so different. Broken. Not at all the commanding and strong man she had come to know. And suddenly the horrible words Christine had said to Erik that day in the café whispered accusingly in her mind. ‘A cruel monster of a man, hiding behind a mask’. She closed her eyes against the wave of remorse. How stupid she had been. How blind. She could remember the way his eyes reflected all the sadness of the world, something that seemed to loom down on the man sitting before her now. How often had people run away like she had prepared to do?  
  
Blinking back tears, Christine took a silent step forward, crossing the room slowly, carefully avoiding the papers on the floor. If Erik noticed her, he didn’t move. Christine hardly dared to breathe as she reached his side. His shoulders were shuddering, and moving up and down with each rapid breath. A surge of pity hit her at the sight.  
  
What had she done?  
  
Cautiously lowering herself to sit by his side, her hand reached up, but hesitated, before resting on his arched back. Immediately, Erik flinched violently from the contact. His upper body was turned away from Christine.  
  
“Oh Erik.” She breathed, breaking the silence. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Sorry?” he finally said incredulously, his voice muffled by his hands and his posture unmoved.  
  
Even though his gaze was still averted from her, Christine nodded.  
  
“Yes. I am sorry for everything.” She hoped he understood. Those harsh words rang in her mind, taunting her. If only he could understand how much she regretted them. And her reaction just now. She bowed her head in shame.  
  
Erik let loose a shuddering breath.  
  
Looking away, to give him some semblance of privacy, Christine could see, out of the corner of her eye, the pale white of Erik’s mask glowing in the light. She glanced between the visage and the vulnerable man next to her and slowly slipped from her seat, reaching towards it.  
  
The mask was light and cool to the touch. Up close, Christine could see the beauty it held as she turned it in her hands. She could even see a hint of red dusted onto the cheeks to make it that little bit more human. Smiling gently, she set the mask in front of Erik.  
  
“If you need it,” was all she said.  
  
Erik slowly lowered a hand from his face. He delicately traced the ridges of the mask, his eyes lowered. Christine turned away respectfully. She wouldn’t make him any more uncomfortable if she could help it.  
  
“Christine.”  
  
She glanced over her should first and turned to see the mask already back in place, returning the more familiar presence of Erik. His back was straight, and his arms were in front of him. But his head was still hung.  
  
“Yes, Erik?”  
  
At the sound of her voice, Erik turned his head to look at her. There was confusion in his gaze. Even with his mask in place that was obvious. He regarded her for a moment.  
  
“Why are you still here?” his voice betrayed a certain level of wonder.  
  
She tilted her head, “Why?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
She took a deep breath, deciding on an answer. True. A moment ago she was ready to run.  
  
“I wanted to know if you were okay.” She said, “After what happened earlier.”  
  
Erik stood up and walked towards her slowly, a look of curiosity on his face.  
  
“But why are you STILL here?” he repeated.  
  
Christine met Erik’s eyes as he searched hers for any signs of fear or revulsion. But she was determined. He would find none. She pushed the image of his face into the back of her mind and instead she stood up straighter and raised her gaze to meet his.  
  
“Because you are my friend, Erik.” She watched as her words reached him, the look of amazement that overcame him and the way his shoulders dropped. “And I wouldn’t let this-” she continued, gesturing to his face, “-change that.”  
  
She meant every word  
  
Erik turned away, one hand covering his mouth. He breathed deep, hardly daring to believe it.  
  
“Oh, Christine,” he whispered. He turned back to look at her. Was she imagining it? Or were his eyes… damp?  
  
"I cannot tell you what that means."  
  
He took several moments more, in silence, to gather himself. Finally, he cleared his throat and stood tall, his more confident manner returning, but the glimmer in his eyes remained.  
  
A clock on the mantle suddenly began chiming, breaking the silence and drawing their attention. Christine quickly glanced at her watch. It was getting far too late. She looked up at Erik apologetically, feeling there was so much more to say.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She sighed, “I have to get going.”  
  
Erik turned to look at the clock reading 11:30.  
  
“Oh yes. Of course.” He said, shaking his head as he was brought back to reality. He traced her footsteps to the door, pulling it open for her.  
  
“How I behaved.” He said as Christine stepped past, stopping her, “I- I’m so sorry,” he said, straightening his clothes self-consciously. “Truly. Is there anything I can do to make up for that?”  
  
Christine tapped her chin in thought, already knowing what she wanted. She paused and smiled, glad to see Erik back to normal.  
  
“There is."  
  
Erik waited warily for her condition.  
  
"I’ll see you on Monday.” She said with a definitive nod.  
  
“On Monday?” Erik’s eyes searched hers in confusion for a moment before they widened. “You mean...”  
  
Christine felt her mouth lift into a smile again. “Yes. I would love to continue lessons with you.”  
  
Erik nodded dazedly, his amber eyes shining.  
  
“Well then, I’ll see you on Monday, Miss Daae.” he murmured.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Hello. Hello.
> 
> Guess who has an exam in a week and is also procrastinating!  
> Thank you all for your wonderful messages from the last chapter (all those months ago). They really do make my day. A lot has happened since my last update and I'm sorry (once more) for my late post.
> 
> There are only a handful of chapters left to go for this story, so they're on their way to meeting for reals. I can't wait.
> 
> Happy reading

Erik made his way up to his apartment. The silence, gently broken by each step through the hallways, allowed for the night’s events to flow through his mind. All thoughts for the performance were lost. It felt as though it happened a year ago. He paused by his door.  
  
And his face. Never could he have imagined her response.  
  
Shaking his head in barely veiled wonder, Erik unlocked his door and stepped through. A familiar meow greeted him by his ankles as Ayesha rubbed delicately against them. Her master bent down and scooped her up into one arm, stroking her smooth fur with the other hand.  
  
“My dearest,” he whispered to her, as if sharing a great secret. “What a night this has been.”  
  
Ayesha purred in response, nuzzling up against his palm.  
  
Erik set her down on her bed, earning a disgruntled meow, and moved towards the balcony, removing his mask as he walked. The usual revulsion in this action was gone and he savoured the feeling of wonder as he traced over his ravaged visage. How?  
  
How could anyone look at him and react the way she reacted?  
  
‘She screamed at you,’ a voice hissed in his ear. ‘She is disgusted.’  
  
‘But she stayed,’ another whispered in response ‘how disgusted can she be if she wants to meet again?’  
  
Erik gripped the railing of the balcony. Yes. She did say that. Of all the elements of the past night, the last bit seemed the most like a dream. A truly wonderful dream. He leaned back and let the cool night air caress his face for a moment longer.  
She had to know the truth.  
  
The thought sat heavy in his mind. After everything that has happened, he owed her that much. Erik turned and walked inside slowly while his mind raced.  
  
Lifting the lid of his laptop hesitantly, he pondered on what to do. He couldn’t do it outright. It had to be done properly. Not just a message. But how? Erik sighed and massaged his forehead.  
  
He needed more time. And he loathed himself for being such a coward.  
  
His last message sat on screen from their earlier conversation.  
  
AngelofMusic: let me know how the performance goes.  
  
There was no following reply. It was late. She was probably asleep.  
  
He sighed and ran a hand through his, now reinstated, hair.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘My dear friend,’ How he savoured that word. ‘I hope your night went well.” He hesitated with one finger hovering over backspace. He was completely blank. A small bell chimed as Ayesha jumped up onto his lap, settling herself against his chest with a content mew.  
  
“What to do, my dear.” He sighed, scratching her head lightly.  
  
Pathetic. Just pathetic. He repeatedly hit backspace. Each punch of the key was rhythmic and forceful. He logged off and shut his laptop, not sending a word. The lid had barely shut before he cursed himself and opened it again. He had to say something.  
  
Erik was surprised that when he loaded the site again, there was a reply.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘It was phenomenal. My friend did so well. And the music was brilliant. It was such a great night.’  
  
Erik frowned. There was absolutely no mention of his face at all. Was she avoiding it? He hesitantly typed his response, testing to see if he could prompt anything.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘That’s wonderful. Did you do anything afterwards? It is quite late.’  
  
He almost held his breath as he waited for her reply.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘I went out with a friend for a little while and caught up with my music teacher afterwards. It was pretty casual.’  
  
Nothing. No mention of it at all. She wouldn’t even tell her dear Angel about it.  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘How was your night?’  
  
Erik sat perplexed. Why would she not say anything? Was she so disgusted that she couldn’t even talk about it… or… was she protecting him? A warm feeling settled over him. Yes. That could be it. Every time she could have attacked him in the newspapers about his mask, she never did. It was possible. Erik shook his head and focused on her message.  
  
AngelofMusic: ‘Rather dull.’  
  
ChorusGirl: ‘Nothing interesting at all? No new music to critique or instruments to play?’  
  
Erik smiled and settled slightly more into his chair, basking in the warm glow of the screen’s light.  
  
-  
  
Christine made sure to knock loudly and wait before entering Erik’s office the following Monday. She pushed the door open and stopped short. Erik was sitting on the couch. Not at the piano as he normally was. One long leg was tucked over the other with an eased grace and he was sipping from a cup of tea. There was an empty cup sitting expectantly on the table. Erik set down his cup and quickly stood up to greet her. His arms were still at his side and his eyes fixed on her.  
  
“Good afternoon, Christine.” He said.  
  
‘Hello, Erik.” Christine replied, not really meeting his eye.  
  
The air felt a little stuffy this afternoon.  
  
Erik cleared his throat and gestured to the couch after a moment of silence.  
  
“I haven’t planned anything for today.” He said, pouring her a cup as she sat down.  
  
Christine paused halfway through taking off her red scarf. No lesson planned? But they were meant to properly start now.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“No” Erik continued. “I wanted to just talk to you about future lessons.”  
  
Christine leant forward and took her cup, cradling the heated porcelain in her hands. A faint scent of fruit wafted from the beverage.  
  
“Isn’t it just going to continue like it did the last month?”  
  
Erik leant back, the leather sofa creaking with the movement, and placed his hands together in his usual steeple pose.  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
Christine watched curiously as Erik’s gaze shifted as he glanced over at the piano. His eyes squinted slightly as if he was stuck on a thought. He must have finished his silent contemplation, since he suddenly drained the rest of his cup and moved towards the grand instrument, his hands twitching eagerly.  
  
Erik sat and ran his fingers along the keys, exhaling in content. Christine waited. He raised his hands and brought them down on the first chord and she almost immediately recognised the piece. How could she forget it? It was what she had heard him play when she visited the theatre for the first time. And it was as divine as the first time she had heard it. As Erik’s fingers crept along the keys the music rose and fell and Christine closed her eyes and let it wash over her once more.  
  
“Humour me. Sing. Please.” Erik suddenly said, breaking her trance. Christine’s eyes shot open and found her teacher, who had turned to look at her, still playing without pause.  
  
“Sing?” She echoed dumbly. “You want me to sing that?”  
  
Erik nodded. The music ceased as his hands left the piano, leaving the notes to longingly echo in Christine’s mind. He beckoned her to stand next to him and she hesitantly obliged, overcome with a sudden surge of nerves. Could she really sing that? It seemed far too complex. Erik turned from her and hit the first chord again, glancing at Christine. She stared at the music sitting on the piano for a moment before she rolled her shoulders back and opened her mouth.  
  
The first note caught her off guard. Had her voice always sounded so strong? She caught the faintest twitch of the corner of Erik’s lips at the sound and felt her nerves disappear. The music and her voice. It sounded so wonderful. Erik’s playing carried on for several minutes, guiding her through the song.  
  
Finally, his hands stilled and there was silence. Both of them basking, caught up in the music.  
  
“Beautiful.” He breathed.  
  
Christine felt her cheeks brighten a little from the compliment.  
  
“You’re music is a masterpiece, Erik.” She murmured.  
  
Erik turned and looked at her with a warm gaze. “Only when it is sung so beautifully.”  
  
Christine couldn’t explain it. But she felt as if her heart was swelling up slightly and she smiled happily.  
  
“Erik I-”  
  
She was cut off as her phone vibrated and a somewhat muffled version of ‘popular’ started blaring from her handbag across the room.  
  
Meg.  
  
Christine sent Erik an apologetic look and jogged over to her bag and pulled out her phone.  
  
“Meg?”  
  
“Christine! Oh good. You busy?”  
  
“umm” Christine glanced over at Erik, who had moved back over to the couch and was pouring another cup. “A little. I’m in the middle of a lesson.”  
  
Meg gasped from the other end of the phone “Oh damn. Sorry. Should I call back?”  
  
“No no” she responded quickly. “What’s up?”  
  
“well… I just wanted to talk about Friday. We didn’t really catch up after, y’know?”  
  
Christine clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh Meg, I’m so sorry. You’re right.” She looked at the time. “I’ll be done in ten minutes and I’ll come over after, yeah?”  
  
“Brilliant. It’s a date.”  
  
The call was ended and Christine turned back to Erik.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
“Miss Giry, I presume?”  
  
She nodded sheepishly.  
  
“I didn’t get a chance to congratulate her properly after the performance.”  
  
“ahh, I understand. You were a bit… preoccupied.”  
  
Erik glanced at his watch and back at Christine.  
  
“You may as well go now. There isn’t much time left.”  
  
Christine smiled. “Thank you.” She reached for her bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Erik”  
  
-  
  
“So you went into his office after the performance? Are you crazy?”  
  
Meg and Christine were sitting on the couch in Meg’s home, feet up on the sofa and facing each other as Christine recounted everything that had happened on Friday.  
  
“You should have seen him, Meg. He was so put off after I went with Raoul.” Christine paused and sipped her tea. “I felt terrible.”  
  
“Was he mad?” Meg asked, leaning in closer with every detail.  
  
“A bit.”  
  
“And what happened?”  
  
Christine hesitated.  
  
“Christine?”  
  
“I… I saw him without his mask.”  
  
“You saw?” Meg’s face dropped and she leant back as her friend nodded.  
  
“Please don’t ask me to describe it.”  
  
“Was it that bad?”  
  
Christine closed her eyes, feeling as if it would burst out of her.  
  
“Oh Meg. It was horrible. And the way he reacted when he saw me. He was so… broken.”  
  
Her friend was silent.  
  
“I couldn’t leave him.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“How could I? That night at the restaurant, I said some horrible things. I felt awful.”  
  
Meg gave a low whistle and took a sip from her own drink, drumming her fingers against the cup. Their gaze fixed on the TV for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.  
  
“So… what now?” Meg finally asked.  
  
“hmm?”  
  
Meg shrugged. “Well, you’re continuing lessons.”  
  
Christine nodded. “I told him I would like to.”  
  
“After everything?”  
  
“Yes. I really enjoy them, Meg.”  
  
Meg shuffled a little closer.  
  
“And what about him?”  
  
“What?” Christine’s eyebrows rose at her friend’s suddenly odd look.  
  
“Do you enjoy him too?”  
  
Christine lightly slapped Meg’s arm and laughed. “Meg! Seriously?”  
  
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” She sang in response.  
  
“Noticed what?” Christine asked, sitting up a little straighter on the couch cushion.  
  
“Darling. Your face is going red as we speak.”  
  
Christine covered her cheeks with her hands. “It’s not like that.” She said firmly.  
  
Meg winked at her and moved an arm across Christine’s shoulder, pulling her close.  
  
“Ah. To be young and feel love’s keen sting.”  
  
“Oh, Shut up you hyperactive cupid.”  



	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again, dear readers. And much sooner than probably either of us expected.  
> Two chapters in two weeks? What on earth has happened to my procrastination? 
> 
> Well, exams are over now, as is my very first semester of uni. Thank you to everyone who wished me luck. It meant a lot. Maybe I can try to have another chapter up soon. But, the end is in sight, my friends. I'm expecting this story to maybe take up another 4 or 5 chapters, depending on a few things.
> 
> Until then,  
> Happy reading.

“Erik!” Nadir called, rushing into the office.  
  
Erik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was the middle of the afternoon. He had work to do. He had lessons to prepare. This was not something he needed.  
  
“Khan.” He replied, not even turning around. “Always a pleasure.”  
  
“I cannot allow this to go on any longer.” Nadir huffed, marching over and standing by his masked friend. At his words, Erik turned his head slowly towards him and raised- well… Nadir assumed he raised- an eyebrow challengingly.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yes. We need to begin preparation for the new performance immediately. I’ve asked you time and again. What are you planning to do with Don Juan?”  
  
Erik groaned internally and turned back to his work. Fully intending to ignore this little lecture.  
  
“Now I don’t know what your plans are for Miss Daae but-”  
  
“But what, Daroga?” Erik snapped, abruptly pushing the stool back as he stood up.  
  
Nadir stood calm, unperturbed by the foot of height Erik had over him. He sighed.  
  
“I understand you have your lessons.” He began, waiting for a response. None. He continued. “But you have to admit you have neglected your own opera for some time. You gave your word that you would begin preparations for this. Every role has been decided, except-“  
  
“The female lead. Yes. I know that, Daroga.”  
  
“Then ask her.”  
  
“I believe I already informed you that I would.” Erik growled.  
  
Nadir pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.  
  
“Well do it soon. I’m running out of excuses for you.”  
  
Erik suddenly went silent, his eyes looking towards his desk but seeing straight through it. Nadir tutted, having had enough, and moved to leave.  
  
“She saw my face, Nadir.” Erik said quietly.  
  
Nadir stopped dead and whirled around.  
  
“What?”  
  
Erik would have normally found amusement in the gobsmacked look on the man’s face.  
  
“My face.” He murmured. “She saw it the night of the performance.”  
  
“Holy sh-”  
  
“Quite.”  
  
Nadir dragged a chair closer to the desk and slumped into it, the look of wonder not entirely leaving his face.  
  
“And she came back?” he questioned.  
  
Erik nodded stiffly, “so it would seem.”  
  
Nadir let out a small laugh in amazement before his brow furrowed, confused, at his friends sudden dismay.  
  
“So what exactly is the problem here?”  
  
Erik sighed and sat down heavily onto his desk chair, head in hands.  
  
“I am at a loss, Nadir.”  
  
“She still doesn’t know, does she?” Nadir prompted carefully. “About you being-”  
  
Erik shook his head.  
  
“Ah” was all Nadir said. He looked around the room awkwardly, finally moving off to grab a bottle of brown liquor and some glasses sitting in a small cupboard. The glasses clinked together in his hands as he walked back and they both sat quietly as Nadir poured a small amount of whisky in each.  
  
“Are you going to tell her?” Nadir asked, handing the slightly fuller of the glasses to Erik.  
  
“Of course.” Erik said, staring into the contents of the glass.  
  
Nadir took a sip from his drink, looking at Erik with a leveled gaze.  
  
“When?”  
  
“I don’t know when!” Erik snapped bitterly. “I don’t know how!”  
  
“What are you so worried about?” Nadir asked, genuinely curious.  
  
Erik made no response.  
  
“She must at least tolerate you if she’s taking lessons” He continued positively.  
  
Still, no response from his stoic friend.  
  
“She’s seen your face.”  
  
Erik finally sighed, nodding his head slightly.  
  
“Yes” he grumbled, rolling his eyes at Nadir’s nauseatingly positive complex.  
  
“And she came back”  
  
A low groan escaped from Erik. He glared at his glass as he rose it to his mouth and he took a considerable sip.  
  
“Accepting my face, a miracle though it is, is one thing. But coming to accept me as… well… me?” he shook his head once more, “Unimaginable.”  
  
Nadir watched as Erik took another drink. He was all too familiar with Erik’s antics and bouts of self-pity and he knew he had to be logical and firm. Perhaps even harsh. He set his drink down and leant back, offering a slightly disappointed yet concerned look that he knew Erik hated.  
  
“You’re a coward Erik Devereux” Nadir goaded.  
  
Erik glared at Nadir, his fingers twitching around his glass.  
  
“Mind yourself Khan.” He warned.  
  
“No.” Nadir countered, not paying any attention to Erik’s tone. He leant forward under the weight of his friends glare and pointed at him forcefully. “You were going to meet the girl in a café all those months ago anyway. She hadn’t seen your face.”  
  
Nadir continued over the lack of response and began listing, taping each finger as he counted every point.  
  
“She hadn’t gotten to know the real you. She had no idea of anything really, not even your name. And now you’ve met. She’s gotten to know you. She no longer wants to murder you, as far as I can tell-” he gestured randomly at Erik as if trying to make his point clear that he was still alive “-she possibly even enjoys your company.”  
  
He paused to survey Erik. Although he was trying not to show it, Nadir could tell that Erik was considering what he was saying.  
  
“AND to top off this practically perfect scenario, she has seen your face and hasn’t run. What more could you need to try to talk to her?”  
  
Erik slammed his hand against his desk, suddenly aggravated.  
  
“She’s expecting someone else.” He declared, as if it debunked everything Nadir had just said. “She deserves someone else… Someone whole.”  
  
Nadir just shook his head, wanting desperately to roll his eyes.  
  
“Regardless of what she expects, Erik, what Christine deserves is to hear the truth. From you.”  
  
At the silence the words were met with, Nadir could tell that Erik knew he was right. He took a deep breath and drank another sip of whiskey, enjoying the warming sensation it brought and exhaled in content.  
  
“So-” Nadir continued. “-ask her about the performance today. At least do that.”  
  
Erik’s head jerked towards him. “Today?”  
  
“Yes. Today. If not now, when?”  
  
There was a sudden knock on the door, cutting off any responses, and the two of them jerked up in their seats to sit up straight. Erik looked over at the clock, surprised at the time. She was here. He directed a forbidding glare at Nadir who seemed to be giving him a knowing smile.  
  
“Not. One. Word.” He hissed before raising his voice.  
  
“Enter!”  
  
Christine marched into Erik’s office as soon as she heard his voice, smiling proudly. Her usual red scarf was draped around her neck, bringing out the lovely rose of her cheeks. Erik watched as she hesitated for a moment when she saw he had company, but she relaxed, seeing it was Nadir, and her smile returned.  
  
“Oh. Hello Mr Khan.” Christine said pleasantly, continuing towards Erik’s desk.  
  
“Good Afternoon, Miss Daae.” He responded cheerfully. Erik didn’t like the amused tone to his voice.  
  
Christine stopped in front of the desk and rummaged through her bag before slamming a small handful of notes onto the desk in front of him. She stood back triumphantly and watched as Erik picked up the money in confusion. He shared a questioning look with Nadir.  
  
“What is this?” he asked, thumbing through the notes.  
  
“This is money.” She deadpanned.  
  
Erik blinked slowly at her with an unimpressed gaze, ignoring the growing grin on the Daroga’s face.  
  
“Truly? How astonishing.” He set the notes down again. “What I meant to ask was ‘why are you handing me money?’”  
  
Christine leant forward and fanned out the money in front of them. “That is $87 dollars. It’s what I owe you for all that cheese you bought for me.”  
  
“Cheese, Erik?” Nadir asked.  
  
Erik furrowed his brow as he tried to remember. Cheese? What on Earth- It suddenly hit him and he choked out a small laugh.  
  
“Christine. That was months ago.”  
  
“And I’m sorry for making you wait.” She replied in a chirpy voice.  
  
Erik chuckled and pushed the notes back across the desk.  
  
“It was the least I could do. I will not accept this.”  
  
Christine moved the money back towards him, almost childishly.  
  
“I insist.”  
  
“As do I.”  
  
He watched as she huffed and put her hands on her hips.  
  
“God you’re stubborn.” She groaned.  
  
“Finally. She gets it”  
  
Erik paused and glanced over at Nadir, who was sitting with his arms crossed and was leaning back with an eyebrow raised and an insufferable smirk on his face.  
  
“Don’t you have work to do?” he growled.  
  
Nadir cleared his throat and shrugged.  
  
“I suppose.” He said mildly, pushing off his knees to stand.  
  
“You’d best get to it.” Erik pressed.  
  
“We’ll talk about this later.” Nadir promised, fixing him with a pseudo-serious look.  
  
“I can barely contain my excitement, Daroga.” Erik deadpanned.  
  
“Then I shall return soon.” Nadir called over his shoulder as he walked to the door. “Can’t have you waiting in suspense, can we?”  
  
He stopped by the door and turned back.  
  
“Always a pleasure, Miss Daae,” he said. And with that, he left.  
  
Erik sighed as the door closed behind Nadir.  
  
“I like him.” Christine said, turning back to look at Erik’s thunderous expression with a smirk.  
  
“You’ll grow out of it.” He huffed, pushing the money back towards her once more.  
  
Arching one rather intimidating eyebrow, Christine scooped up the notes.  
  
“Well. Anyway. There must be some way I can repay you.” She muttered, stuffing the money back into her bag.  
  
“You could sing in my new opera.” Erik said quickly, before he could overthink it.  
  
Christine’s hand paused in her bag and her eyes widened.  
  
“What?” she asked, turning slowly to face Erik.  
  
He fixed her with a steady gaze from behind his mask, one hand rummaging through his desk drawer to find his manuscript.  
  
“Sing. In my new opera. Please.” He repeated, standing up, now holding the leather bound booklet.  
  
“Erik, I told you I would no-”  
  
“Would not work for me, yes,” He said, cutting her off. “I know. But I am not asking you to work for me, Christine.” Erik moved from behind his desk, still holding his manuscript, and advanced towards her. “I want you to work with me. This music has been haunting me for so many years and I need to hear it brought to life. In its entirety.”  
  
He stopped in from of Christine and placed one hand over the manuscript delicately.  
  
“I cannot do it without you.”  
  
Christine searched for a response silently. To take lessons was one thing. But perform for him? With him? Or whatever the terms were.  
  
”What would your father say?” he asked.  
  
Christine’s head snapped up sharply.  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“Pardon?” Erik was taken aback by her unblinking gaze.  
  
“Don’t do that.” She said firmly.  
  
“Don’t do what?” he echoed.  
  
Christine stood up straight and continued to look at Erik.  
  
“Don’t use my father like that.”  
  
Erik looked down for a moment, breaking eye contact. “Ah. I’m sorry.”  
  
Christine was silent for a moment before Erik decided to speak up again.  
  
“But, when I first offered lessons,” he began gently, “you told me that your father wanted you to take every opportunity.” He watched her brow furrow and she looked away. “What would he say now?” he finished.  
  
The leather couch creaked slightly as Christine sat down. She balanced one elbow on her knee and rested her head on her hand, deep in thought.  
  
She knew exactly what he would say. He’d be wondering why she was even taking this long to accept. She looked over at Erik, who was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, waiting for a response. Things had changed. That was true. They had been meeting up almost every day for over a month and their rivalry was all but gone. And the music. It was so beautiful.  
Christine took a deep breath in and exhaled gradually. She could see that he wasn’t trying to be malicious when he mentioned her father. He was right though. If Gustave Daae was there, her father would be encouraging her right now. He would be clasping her hands and looking at her with his warm brown eyes full of pride saying, ‘take this opportunity, my dear. You will stun the world.’  
  
She knew in her heart that this was true.  
  
And her Angel would encourage her too.  
  
“Christine?”  
  
She shook her head and looked up, she hadn’t realised that she was clutching her hands together. She cleared her throat and buried her hands in her pockets.  
  
“Your opera?” was all she said.  
  
Erik nodded, moving to sit next to her, she could feel herself sink into the sofa slightly as he sat down.  
  
“I will coach you through every single line, Christine.” He assured, his voice calm and even despite the eagerness rising in his chest. “I cannot picture anyone else in the role.”  
  
Christine laughed lightly, “Oh sure you can.”  
  
“No.” Erik said seriously.  
  
Christine turned to look at Erik, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. He was looking at her with an open gaze- as open as one could muster while wearing a mask- and she could see he was being utterly serious. She shook her head in thought, her shoulders slumping as the reality of the situation hit them.  
  
“Oh… Erik I’m no performer.”  
  
“We’ll rehearse every day, just like we do now,” he replied easily. “And you’ll be fine.”  
  
“What about auditions?”  
  
“I consider every lesson we’ve had to be more than enough to help my decision,” he assured.  
  
Christine frowned and let loose a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. It was clear that Erik would not stop until he received an answer. And to her surprise, she found herself nodding.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
Erik’s eyes brightened as she said this and it seemed as if a massive weight lifted from his shoulders.  
  
“You will do it?” he echoed.  
  
Christine nodded.  
  
“It’s crazy, but I will.”  
  
Erik’s lips twitched into a smile, the corners of his eyes creasing. He stood up swiftly and extended a hand to her. She smiled and took it, grasping it delicately. It was surprisingly cold, but firm as he pulled her up to stand from the sofa. She felt a slight pressure around her own hand as Erik squeezed it lightly. It was a very small gesture to convey his emotions but it seemed to speak magnitudes. He let go of her hand and cleared his throat.  
  
“It must have been very good cheese,” he quipped lightly. Christine laughed.  
  
“It was very Gouda.” She said, a playful smile on her lips.  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Erik said, staring at her incredulously.  
  
At the consistently judgmental expression on Erik’s face, Christine felt her grin growing. She watched Erik blink a few times as if to steady himself.  
  
“We’ll begin now.” Erik sighed, shaking his head.  
  
“Now?” Christine said, her grin giving way to shock.  
  
“For that terrible pun? Yes now.” He confirmed, placing a hand on her back and urging her to the piano. He placed the manuscript on the stand with a flourish.  
  
“I disa-brie.” She grumbled, biting her tongue to keep from laughing.  
  
Erik paused again and closed his eyes, gripped the bridge of his masked nose.  
  
“Christine, you try my patience,” he muttered.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She laughed. “I’m done.” She fixed her face into what she imagined to be a serious expression. “Continue.”  
  
Erik sighed again, allowing himself a small smile from behind his hand, though careful to ensure it disappeared before he looked at his student.  
  
“Now. We’ll start at the very beginning.” He said, opening the booklet for her.  
  
“That’s a very good place to start,” Christine sung.  
  
“You’re insufferable, Miss Daae.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to whoever got that last reference

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are an absolute delight to receive


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